Imbolc, by Caroline Mellor

[elenbarathi.livejournal.com]

Imbolc

I am the dream of awakening.

I am the returning of the night.

I am the tough green shoot pushing up through the paper stones.

I am the first case of sunlight on the unfurling petals of the snowdrop.

I am the wind which whispers the gentle pull of home to the migratory bird.

I am the drop of ice melting on the mountainside with its great dream of the ocean.

I am the sap rising in the blossom tree just before it reveals its sticky buns to the sky; I am the riotous celebration humming away beneath the earths mantle of frozen sleep.

I am the rousing of the beer from its winter slumber, and the soft pad of the mother wolf's paw on the snow as she prepares to both her pups.

I am hope, potential, rebirth and promise. I am the kindling beneath which transforms the flicker of inspiration in your creative core into a blazing torch.

Give me the silent crescent moon rising over the sea and I will build you a bridge of silver light so you can walk up and lie in it.

Give me the frost-hardened wilderness and I will breathe radiant green life over it.

Give me the healer, the writer, the crafts person in the storyteller and I will replenish her essence and make her new again.

I am Brigid, Bast, Inanna and Hestia. I am the fierce protectress in the sacred fire.

Tonight I bestow my gifts of power encourage at the hearth of your soul: power to step out of the shadows of self-doubt and negativity which I've held you in darkness for too long, power to shed all that would no longer serves you, and crude to clear your heart in mind for the dawn of that awaits you.

I am the time to honor your unique gifts for their true worth it to protect and nurture your true self as you would a child. I am the deep longing of the spirit which refuses to be deemed by narrative of fear and choose instead to place itself vivaciously on the side of love.

I am stirring in your belly which knows exactly what you are capable - and that it's time the world found out.

I am the fire within which will not be contained any longer.

I am the quickening, I am the serpent uncoiling, I am Imbolc.

I am the dream of awakening.

~by Caroline Mellor
(This poem as first published on Rebelle Society.)