Friday, January 6, 2012
WHO IS SHE?
I don't know who she is, this woman who appears when I close my eyes. She's bathed in star light, spirit light, I'm not sure. She's standing on a headland, waves crashing on the rocks, facing into the wind, hair blown back like a cloak trying to break free. Her skirt kilted, feet sandal shod. Until today I thought she was an avatar of me, my spirit sister. Now? I'm not so sure. I wonder if it's some racial memory. An ancestor. A woman born, Goddess, how many centuries ago. And where? The highlands? The Western Isles? Who are you, lady? Will I ever see your face?