Birthing My Self

I crouched down

into a squat,

barefoot

upon the Earth,

breathing down

the emergence

of my Self.

The creative center

of my being

that once

grew and held

my babies

before my arms did.

“I am complete”

she says.

The death

of a Priestess,

blossoming Crone

allowing space

for so much more.

Another lesson

in letting go,

trusting the unseen

blessings to come.

I return her

to the Earth

as an offering

to my Ancestors.

She nurtures

the growth of

the Dogwood tree

which I sit under,

still holding

my children

and me.