The story keeper remembers everything
That happened along the curving path
Not straight, no
And filled with places that held me for some time
Now I can’t remember if I was willing.
The story keeper knows family secrets
Transformed but not forgotten
Forgiven, for the most part
The story keeper reminds me to love
That little girl
That young woman
That mother
This crone
We all did the best we could with what we had
Like Penelope at her loom
The story weaver unpicks the threads of the past from old cloth
She holds all these stories
Like precious, colorful threads
None will be wasted as she creates a new cloth
It is a different pattern
She knows I am the stories I have told
Except when I haven’t been
And I am the stories told about me
Except when I’m not
I am life as it happened to me
Except when I happened to life
But all the threads, “true” or not
Find their way into the new cloth
She breathes out softly
On her breath the new story grows
“This is no dilettante, but a constant learner
A polymath
The language she chooses now is color and form
Words support rather than lead
A painted line reveals knowledge
In ways language never did”
The story weaver speaks to me
Not just with words
Color, shape, line, and image fill me
Until I am overcome
Until I kneel to thank her
I place my hands on her feet
I place my head there
And stay
Until her lovely hands reach down
To lift my head, to take my hands
The story weaver directs me to a new creation
She looks deep into my eyes
And asks me
“What is the Legend you tell now?”
My Legend? I tilt my head, confused
She smiles
“A Legend keeps what you want and adds what you need, touched with stardust and poetry. Tell me”
I stand, arms open wide
My head thrown back
A song begins
I was born into a magical library filled with music
On a night illuminated by a half moon
Sometimes the library was a comfort
Other times, shadows terrorized me
Until I learned the beauty of the dark
I spent much of my life on the edges
Sometimes in sorrowing at the lack of connection
Sometimes contemptuous—I didn’t need anyone
I was a rock. I was an island.
“Go on,” she urged. “There must be more.”
I discovered the beauty of the edge
Where the sun rises and sets
And the moon follows
I found the horizon beautiful
There I could see forever
“Yes,” she breathed.
And then, I found I was not alone
Others dwelt there
And they. . . they were like me
Seekers
Visionaries
Makers
Healers
“What happened?”
I found connection and recognized
That somehow I had been called to them
As in some mysterious way they had been called to me
“And?”
And we danced in joy
In sisterhood
Holding the red thread between us
Watching the joy
Sharing the sorrow
Witnessing
Holding
“So, who are you?,” she asked,
Smiling as she said it.
I am made of the magic that birthed me
The music that surrounded me
The books that nourished me
I am a tree, rooted deep in the earth,
I bend with the wind when needs must
Yielding is better than breaking
But when I must move,
My roots withdraw and become my legs
Carrying me to new places
I am poetry on the wind
The sound of chimes
The scent of old roses
Music of my own making
Ideas flowing as freely as the air that carries them
I am the deep fire of passion
The phoenix who rises from ashes
Never truly burnt
Never truly defeated
I rise, transformed
Each time stronger
I am a mermaid in the sea
My hair streaming wildly behind
No silly clamshells for me
My breasts, wet and beautiful
Rise out of the sea with me
I am the water who shapes me
The water that shapes rock
I am a goddess, many goddesses
Liminal like Hekate
Defiant like Lilith
Raging like Sekhmet
Healing like Isis
Loving like Magdalene
I am a maker
A creator of images
A writer of words
A keeper of circles
A witness to others
A dreamer
A wise woman
I am my own creation
I shape my own path
I carve my own doors
I take the hand of any who will come with me
I’ve learned both the joy of connection
And the value of solitude
Neither frightens me any more
I am earth, air, fire, and water
Spirit filled
Carrying the stories of my ancestors
Both known and unknown
I am a Red Thread connected to so many others
Starshine and moonlight
The rising sun
The hush of twilight
I am joy and sorrow and everything in between
I am life happening
Phoenix Nest Soul Arts 