A tree reaching in, branches haphazard,
Tangled fragments unifying into one solid
Mass - a whole - twisted and beautiful,
Reveling in the dusky darkness,
A dark so dark that shadows are obsolete
Yet fully illuminated.
Within this dark, lush place
I have kissed the force of the Underworld,
I have been penetrated by demons, god-like
In their majesty, the Creator the Destroyer,
Breaking me again and again, making me strong,
Giving the gift of other-worlds, of seeing beyond seeing,
To face the harshness and not shatter.
I no longer fear the dark.
This is the path through the forest,
The half-poisoned apple in hand,
Raised to lips -
The initiation into being, into a deep sleep
Of mythological proportions,
A long, slow-growing dream
Where I am no longer a Woman, but a World.
Dena L Moore
October 16, 2009