She is Twilight

She is Twilight

(becoming smoke)

There can be no secret societies today

everyone wants to talk about it, brand it

post and share the lower self

they aspire to publicly be the special one

selfie at initiation selfie at a sacrifice

selfie at a funeral or while sitting on the toilet

photo op while getting laid or rolling a blunt

the common woman is less common

see her barefoot with her iron pot

she knows all about the cooking stones

for she is the blue deer and the hollow bone

singing to the fir and aspens, she collects sticks

walking to the post office she catches a song on the west wind

writes letters, sends postcards and shawls to her friends

no one listens to her or regards her

she is magic now, invisible and is becoming smoke

and fog She is twilight and the humming in the forest

boring, she will not put you on a pedestal

or tell you you are a rare thing, unusual

or assure you that your marriage will last

or that it is even a good thing She wonders where you went

why you don’t dream

and why you made you disappear

she knows you had a choice

she will not regard your beads and trinkets

doesn’t care

except for the earth, humans, real humans, creation

and how you move in creation and are you still human she wonders

she is in her dream walk

happy to feed the homeless

without discussing it She doesn’t want you to discuss it either

and says to you,

“see these “shamans”, “healers” these certified “holy women”

self proclaimed “medicine men and women”

call them queen mother Call them big chief

and can i get an amen? and what does that even say about all this?

for i am low with the badger

a mudwoman a dew woman a heathen

i move with these seasons and am the 5th wind Gathering the waste

harvesting medicines and poisons

and have always know the true names

of the original daemons.”