Despite my spirit entanglement with the bee, I am not a "beyhive" member or fan of "Queen Bey." Some of you may recall how underwhelmed I was with Beyonce's "Black Panther prowess," marching around on stage, appropriating panther garb while singing the praises of capitalism...
I cannot, however, front like I wasn't astounded when I came across a video depicting Beyonce's recent performance at the Grammys. The performance is a masterpiece and proof positive that the divine feminine is returning to the collective conscious, moving through all who are open enough to receive her transmission. The performance moved me to write the following poem-- the first poem I've written since I was 14 years old...
Out with the stagnant and uninspired.
Witness the desperation.
Its death thralls surge throughout the conscious collective.
Gnashing and lashing out.
Futile final attempts to terrorize and stymie the inevitable.
Breaths taken now, frantic and agonal.
Undistracted, sistars kneel with focus.
Turning the earth with bare hands.
Re-collecting the last of our scattered bones.
Hallowed or crushed, mother has held them safe, in waiting.
Singing to the bones, we feel their musculature materialize.
The flesh rejoins, softening exposed edges.
Her full figure rises,
Illumined by the gnowledge that descends and defines our very birth rite.
With creativity awakened, the priestess reveals herself.
Womb wisdom re-membered and shared again.
Return of the visionary.
Return of the oracle.
Return of balance.
Realigned, we imagine again.
Contesting all boundaries.
Making a mockery of limitation.
Gratitude for the agonizing forgetfulness that has revealed the magnificence of compassion, grace and unconditional love.
A divine homecoming.
Welcome back, priestess.