#Goddess · #Humanity · #Peace · #Women'sStories #Love

Church of the BadAss

Service 10 o’clock a.m. Every damn day.

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Read, repeat, repent, relive, rise, rotting, refuge, raw. In severe pain I lay in a bed under piles of blankets; I know the ceiling well. I know each cobweb, eyes in the wood, where it shifts as my body and house age as one. I am not sad, just in waiting for my daily resurrection, assessing my spine, each joint, deep tissue and every brain cell that is trying to generate strength. Left elbow, right shoulder, cervical lightening bolts shoot up and out the top of my head. Fatigue, morphine, darkness.

The Sermon is led by #Moonlight cold, the eye of a #Goddess aware of all time, of wild coyotes and frosty pines. Moonlight still, an oasis in a a mighty universe, tiny drops of mystery. Moonlight glow, emboss the frozen creek, jagged brightness decorates the peaks.

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Moonlight dusts the nestless, the flightless; Moonlight illuminates hooved tracks, alert with brightness. Moonlight gold, all night Goddess, aware of me, of you of the wild coyote singing his hymn through the ice laden pines. Forests glow and beckon us to bow, to listen to the call of rebirthing, remembering, honoring our ancestors, the hidden silver beneath us, the blink of life that propels us to try again. Moonlight hears. Goddess tears. We all need the same light to wander through our time here. Bestow gratitude for pain, for deep devilish pain that we don’t beckon but lives in us still. Abort the destruction of man, cover our steps with Moonlight new, forgive us Earth Mother for what we do. May we live in our pain with consciousness that we are not alone, may we gaze as one at the black sky and hold your light in our tired hands.

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