spring poetry

MAIDENS. I

Others must by a long dark way
Stray to the mystic bards,
Or ask some one who has heard them sing
Or touch the magic chords.
Only the maidens question not
The bridges that lead to Dream;
Their luminous smiles are like strands of pearls
On a silver vase agleam.

The maidens' doors of Life lead out
Where the song of the poet soars,
And out beyond to the great world—
To the world beyond the doors.

- Rainer Maria Rilke

A Poem for Artemis

My power lies in silence

There is a wholeness, a harmony

From which rude speech

Can only detract

When I move in rhythm

Then I can connect

To all the rustlings and stirrings –

The soft and subtle sounds

That can so easily be missed

My power lies in silence

And I allow my body to speak

Muscles moving smoothly

Fully embodied wisdom

Flowing through me

Wild, unfettered and utterly free

Frankly sexual, yet totally pure

Sacred love, body of Goddess,

Gifts of flesh and spirit overflowing

From the endless cup

Still, what the maiden does

After the thrill of the hunt

Never can change her,

Never restrain her

Free

My power lies in silence

Ever virgin I am and will remain

Running under the Moon

Hunter and hunted

I live and die and live again

The sacred dance of life

That turns the Wheel

My power lies in silence

A silence greater than words

Beyond them as the stars

Are beyond the clouds

In the immaculate sky

Copyright Tanaria Lightbearer 1/29/17

Pilgrimage of the Great Wheel: Great Dismal Swamp

This weekend, I had the opportunity to visit the Great Dismal Swamp, which is a point on the Pilgrimage of the Great Wheel. This sacred journey is something that has come to me in the last couple of years - I am visiting all the points of a great wheel of ley lines that covers the southeast of the US to experience their power and to honor these sacred places. Check out that linked post for details.

The Great Dismal Swamp is a lonely expanse of wood and marsh and swamp, and an area rich with history. It's a wildlife refuge, and was once used as a hideout on the Underground Railroad during the US Civil War. Local legends are rich concerning this place. It's a wild place, an impenetrable wilderness, a liminal space where the touches of civilization and law were light. What this land was to pre-European peoples I do not know, but I do know that they lived here - it was a vast region, once. To my eyes, it is a fascinating place. What secrets are hidden in its tangled wood? What lurks beneath its black waters? What do the fearsome stings of the swarming insects protect?

For me, this visit was a continuation of a period of intensive underworld work. The guardians of the underworld have made themselves known to me. I have been doing a great deal of journeywork, shadow work - working with the dark, hidden places within and below. Reflective, visionary work. Quiet, powerful work.

I spent the weekend mostly at the nearby Merchant's Millpond, which is another kind of swamp....a still place of towering cypress and tupelo gum, an enchanted, watery forest. A place in which the veil between the world is as thin as spider silk. A place where I was honored to witness a vulture feed. Turkey vultures and black vultures had found a deer, possibly lost in Hurricane Matthew, on the hummock of a cypress. There were birds at the carcass, birds in the branches, and yet more vultures circling in the sky above.

Sacred transformer, death eagle, purifier - I honor your wisdom! Teach me to soar on the thermals of life, conserving energy until opportunity presents itself. Teach me to ingest refuse, that which no longer serves, and bring it back into the great cycle, to take on new life and power my wings.

Teach me the mysteries of death, that gentle release that frees the spirit to carry on its journey. Teach me to release what is tired and worn-out and unnecessary, making space for the needed and new. Teach me, sacred Vulture!

When I came to the Great Dismal Swamp, I startled a vulture by the side of the road. It flew so close to me that it took my breath away. I was crawling along in my truck with all the windows down and there was this enormous bird, feathers looking more brown than black, with a mottled texture. It flew in front of me for some time before drifting into the woods.

Later, a Great Blue Heron led me deeper into the swamp, flying above the canal as I drove behind on the road. On and on it flew, gracefully gliding over the black waters...I honor you, heron! Teach me the ways of the stalker, the patient hunter who stands in the shallows, silent as a shadow, who strikes swift as an arrow.

Heron led me to Drummond Lake, which was much larger than I supposed. I paused here, ate and drank, made offering to the land. This writing is what happened next.


The voice of Spirit comes to me as the land.
Today, it says, do not hurry
do not do.
Today, sit in the swamp wind and be.
Simply exist.
Be present with the holly and the honeysuckle
the fox grape, the sumac, and the corpse berry.
Soak up the last sun of autumn,
glowing golden timeless time,
like the turtle on driftwood silver and brown
let the tiny yellow moth draw you in
to the meadow, sere and dry
wooly marsh grass waving like flags in the breeze

Today the voice of Spirit beckons
come and be with me
Commune with me as this place
Mother grandmother swamp
Listen to your sisters the songbirds
Listen to your mother the waters burbling
Watch your brothers, the waves
Let the four winds cleanse you
and father sky lift you up.

Be.
Be as one with the land
Exist in this dying time,
last blazing of beauty
before winter's sleep

Today I honor the Great Mystery
that moves within all things.
Today, I am free.

- JN 10/30/16


This weekend was passed in the dark of the Moon. I paddled the waters, I walked the land, I bathed in
the sun, listened to the rain, drank in the starlight, was cleansed by the winds, and offered my songs to the land. Mother grandmother swamp, I honor you! Your waters fill my dreams and draw me deep, deep below, to the underworld, the land of the ancestors, the home of the fae, kingdom of the Horned One.

I honor you, Great Medicine Wheel of Jomeokee! Great Guide, this pilgrimage I make in your honor. This land I walk to gain your wisdom, each step trodden by countless ancestors who have gone before me. Fill me with your medicine. Teach me, Great Guide. Lead me on...

Blessed be! Naho!

The God in the Wild Wood

Or, another way of thinking about the World Tree for we lovers of the Horned One in his aspect as Cernunnos. Io kernunno!

“At the Sacred Centre, in the Grove of all Worlds, He sits with legs crossed beneath an ancient Oak. Entranced, connecting the three worlds Earth, Sea, and Sky and the worlds behind the worlds, the god and the Great Tree are One, His immense limbs widespread, stretching into distant sky and starry space. His massive trunk, spine of the Middleworld, is the heart of the Ancient Forest around which all Life, all worlds turn. His limitless root web growing deep into secret earth and Underworld. Above him the great turning circles of Sun, Moon, and Stars. All around Him subtle movements of the leaves in melodious, singing air. Everywhere the pulsing, gleaming Green awash in drifts of gold and shimmering mist. Beneath Him soft moss creeping over the dark, deep, moist of spawning earth. 

At His feet the great Cauldron from which the Five Rivers Flow. Through the forest stillness they come, whispering wings and secret glide, rustling leaves, and silent step, the first Ancestors, the Oldest Animals, to gather around Him: Blackbird, Keeper of the Gate; Stag of Seven Tines, Master of Time; Ancient Owl, Crone of the Night; Eagle, Lord of the Air, Eye of the Sun; and Salmon, Oldest of the Old, Wisest of the Wise leaping from the juncture of the Five Springs. 

He welcomes them and blesses them, and they honor Him, Cernunnos of the nut brown skin and lustrous curling hair. The god whose eyes flash star-fire, whose flesh is a reservoir of ancient waters, His cells alive with Mystery, original primeval essence. Naked, phallus erect, He wears a crown of antlers limned in green fire and twined with ivy. In his right hand the Torq of gold, testament of his nobility and his sacred pledge. In his left hand the horned serpent symbol of his sexual power sacred to the Goddess. Cernunnos in His Ancient Forest, His Sacred Temple, His Holy Grove, Cernunnos and His children dream the Worlds.”

-Ravenquest

Paddling in the Sea of Consciousness

The Pagan Experience - Wk 3- Apr. 20 – Deity and the Divine - When we speak of Deity and the Divine there are many ways to perceive their energy. Do you identify Deity as archetypal energy, part of a larger Limitless Source, purely anthropomorphic or a synthesis of much more?

In the slap of waves rocking the hull of my boat, I feel it.

In the swirl of water curling around my paddle blade, I see it.

In the soughing of the tall pines, I hear it.

In the fecund pungency of the swamp, I smell it.

In the soaking spring rain that trickles into my mouth, I taste it.

In the muscular flight of a bald eagle and the vigilant watch of its mate perched in a tall pine, it flashes.

Consciousness. Divinity. The life force shining from a million million eyes, beating in every infinite heart, its flowing breath filling a million million lungs, on and on, endlessly, cycling through uncounted lives and incarnations. This is the energy of creation, of life forever striving to survive and thrive, to express itself in innumerable bodies, forces, elements, continents, planets, star systems, galaxies.

Ancient turtles abide, sunning themselves on a fallen tree in the lake

While the camouflaged heron hunts, patiently awaiting a meal

I float closer and closer in stillness and silence, excitement barely contained

Watching in awe this scene that could have taken place in any century, in any epoch or age

This dance of life and death and rebirth, this symphony of Divine expression playing itself out on Earth

This intricately interwoven, jewel studded web of energy, of life

This biotic community to which I belong, my thread too in the web, woven true by the Fates, and by my own hand, by my own mind, by my own consciousness.

But all of us on the waters feel the energies shift

Ozone fills the air, and the clouds build, their ominous gray wall crowding out the sun, covering the immaculate blue sky, twilight come early by the gathering storm

In unspoken agreement, we paddle faster, blades flashing in the gray green waters

A breeze blows the lake waters into riffles that vibrate our hulls, rising and falling on swelling waves

We fly past the fallen tree, animals nowhere to be seen, hearts squeezed by wary tension

This is the energy of destruction, the storm that cleanses the waters and the lands, the flood that fertilizes the fields, the fire that rejuvenates the forest, the ending that is a beginning, the merciful death that ends suffering, the willing death that feeds new life, its terrible beauty too a part of the dance, a vital part of the balance, the shadow that defines the light.

This is the Divine - its endless and limitless consciousness in every face, its energy shaping every landscape, directing every flowing river, every blowing breeze, its timeless force that goes on and on, all things manifesting in its limitless stream of possibility. It is the love that binds us, it is the strength that carries us, it is life, it is us. 

Aho! Blessed be!

Copyright April 19, 2015 Tanaria Lightbearer. All rights reserved. Do not copy, excerpt or print. Re-posting with attribution and link to original post welcome.

Seed Moon Eclipse Dance

My place is in the wild wood
next to the pond
united with the elements

the sweet spring wind moves across the waters
and I taste Her breath
the fiery sun beats down upon me
and I feel His love
curious turtles surface to watch me
I see life returning from Her watery womb
I stand strong upon the awakening Earth
and I know my power

I AM

I am one with the elements
I know the place where I belong
all this beautiful Earth is my home

so if you seek me, look you to the sky
for you may find me there,
circling lazily with the sacred vulture
look you to the wood
for you may find me there,
running with His deer
look you to the waters
for you may find me there,
swimming among the fishes
look you to the land,
for there you will find my heart
beating with love for this Earth

I AM

I am alive
I am strong
I am Goddess
I am grateful

Blessed be!

Soundtrack


Copyright April 4, 2015 Tanaria Lightbearer. All rights reserved. Do not copy, excerpt or print. Re-posting with attribution and link to original post welcome.

Spring is almost here!

Spring is bursting out all over here in central North Carolina. Daffodils dot the sides of our country roads, the river is high, the Bradford pears are blooming and the grass is growing lush. My tribe of farm kitties has already been through the mating season and they now are rolling around contentedly in the Spring sun. Ostara is in just two days and I couldn't be more excited for the official launch of this most auspicious season!

The fresh air of spring

And the strong tug of the earth
I walk with the trees

-yours truly, 4/9/12

This is the time to plant the seeds, both literal and figurative, that we wish to nurture this year. We’ve dreamed about them in the sacred dark of Winter. At Imbolc, we cleansed away the unnecessary to create space for the new. We dedicated ourselves to the work of this year to bring these intentions to light. Now it is Ostara, the dawn of Spring. Our attention energizes our dreams, and our intention transforms them to reality. So mote it be!

30 Days of Deity Devotion: Day 12

Places associated with this deity and their worship.

In the trees, my body is free

In the forest, I know my power

Away from the walls of men, my heart is free

In the wild air, my mind grows sharp

In the tree tops, my spirit flies

On the mountain, She is with me

I can see the trail in front of me

I am wild, eternally.

-Tanaria, copyright 12/10/2014

As Above, So Below

Check out this beautiful poem by Don Iannone that I found:

All that is above
is also below.
The invisible inside
eventually is projected outward.

What takes form outside reflects back,
like the pond’s perfectly still surface,
allowing the soul to glimpse itself,
if only for a fleeting second,
before dissolving like the day into night.

The world around us appears and disappears
with each turn of the psychic wrench,
tightening and loosening our grip
on all coming and going as reality.

All springing from the inner depths
eventually is planted
in the outer mirror
for all to see.

As above,
so below.
As above,
so below.