She is Calling me Home

Let me give my fear to the muse

Right now, frame drumming sounds in my ears, I'm warm in the sun and spider webs glimmer at my feet as I sit on the front porch on a bright May day.

There’s a voice rising in me. Almost-words, just at the edge of speech. A longing that feels like a return.

My soul is stirring. I’ve walked many paths, tried many lenses, but I keep circling back to something sacred. And then, arriving in perfect timing, I hear this:

“Know thyself.
Above all things, speak the truth.
Do nothing to excess.
Accept the gifts the gods have given you.

 The muse cannot be silenced.
She sings within us forever.
Her voice will be heard again.” 

Let me give my fear to the muse, the sun, and the spider. Let me return to my Source. To the rituals of the ancient Mother. Let me return again and again until there is no longer a path, only a well — a place to draw from, again and again, without shame.

I call myself back and return. 

Stepping forward and re-entering the temple
I trust the beat of the drum, 
the voice of the Muse, 
and the web of life at my feet.