I first saw you when I was seven,
in the lilacs behind the house.
You looked like a gypsy.
I followed your barefoot prints
into deep water … Color had to save me!
Red reached out, jerked me back from
drowning in too-tight places.
You pulled your painted wagon into my heart
set up camp, waited for me
through the drama years.
I finally learned I could say “No” …
It took a long itme.
The jingle of your bracelets
tending spirit fires eased my pain.
Blue released me back into the wild.
Symbols splashed on canvas
words darted like barn swallows
out of the shadows, into my ink.
One stick at a time I dismantled
my cage of self-doubt.
We sat by your fire at night,
planned my escape.
I couldn’t have done it without you …
Wild woman of my heart,
Sacred mother of creation,
The One who speaks authentic.
