Poem For the First Fire Festival
Wrote a poem today in one torrent. I want you all to know where I’m at when I write poems. I’m under the earth. I don’t mind if you disagree with what I say, the content, meaning. I just want you to know, I don’t think it, linearly, analytically. I don’t have a thought and concept process per se. I don’t even think I use my “imagination” and if you read Tree Of Soul I complicate the word “imagination” a little. I go into my bones, under them, I go under the Earth. I unbecome just a little to become something wider, weirder, and much, much more plural. I go under the earth and I chant from the Heartbeat there. Many voices braid and blend with mine. I cannot even really take credit. It all comes out at once. I’m in a collective state, a state of pure Soul. An oracle state. This is where I feel most “myself” which is funny because I’m less singularly identified than ever, many beings at once. So here’s what They told me today, what They had to say about Gromnica…..
First Fire Festival
Gromnica
Imbolc
Tu B'Shevat
And more we may never have heard of due to suppressed histories.
A Winter of War
Despairing, I crave to be with you
Who are under, deep under these, deep.
Beneath my pelvic bone deep
Beneath, beneath the cold sodden black Earth, so deep,
Sinking Far.
Where almost everything is still sleeping,
To meet the fire inside the seed.
Meet the tiny flame that is brand new from the Mind-Womb.
Always new, no matter what you think, what’s happened.
You can never stop Hir (Land, Life, Love) from creating, from
Birthing new seeds, from birthing new seeds.
No amount of socialization, colonial violence wonky discourse, ego battles and entrenched stances, can stop Them from birthing new, fresh, fires.
For rightly they call Hir the Smith
And here in this time, we would do well to STFU for a minute
And go deep deep deep under into our rest and into our sleep and into our ribs
Into our spine
Into our sacrum
Go deep deep deep deep under, way way way below words, shush shush and shush And sleep
And breathe,
Be a rib cage inside a Rib Cage inside a RIBCAGE
Bones inside caves inside Mountains, Mantle, inside Magma,
Solar Systems
Dimensions and Voids.
Inside the always new always freshly made Creation Body.
Inside, find the pure brand new hitherto inconceived
Spark of the Seed.
My Ancestor talks to me of Chochmah.
Eternal beginning.
The seed.
The spark.
A spark of impenetrable Darkness.
Cosmic Egg (autocorrected to Comic)
What a gift from Gxd it is to fall from what we know.
To know nothing to be in unknowing.
Our knowing laid to rest under snow
Baruch HaFemme what a blessing.
To turn to our Creatrix and say I fucking don't know.
And then see that the universe is being recreated all the time and that we can feel that spark of pure knowing that is new, newborn, completely new.
How blessed is it that ever new patterns spring from the WombMind of the Weaver?
We are in the shock of the destruction the violence of the winter unbelievable horror.
We screamed why and how.
Many many slipped from the grasp of this world.
We watched from afar, aghast.
It continues and so we must.
We lie in darkness.
We know fuck all.
Don't get up yet.
You must sink, sink down through the layers where the bones are.
Forget forget forget to remember.
Unite your unknowing with the heart of the seed.
The answers we need come from the Land. They are nestled in the black blood, the iron rich substrate.
Eggs form, seeds wake but must still lie a time longer.
Still time to dream with the seed spark.
This is the time to dream with the seed.
I promise your cutty wit will still be there, your analysis.
But how would it be different if you submit it to the Land's newborn fire?
To the forge of the Smith?
The next thing will come from deep in the land, the Womb Mind
Be fired by the Spark of the Seed.
When we unite our mind with the Land's mind
The Universe Wombmind.
The next thing must also come from Dreaming.
No matter what you think, where you get your ideas, Revolution comes from the Land, from the WombMind of Life first and foremost.
Find it and incubate it
The Spark
Find the Spark
And let it Dream You into Action
In this time of Dark before Spring.