I collect prayers
Some are sweet
Some are sour
Some are dry leaves
Drifting down
To crumble like brittle bones
I collect them all
Bitter and sweet
Angry and gentle
Melting and stinging
A flurry of sleet and snow
Each and every prayer
Of Living and Dying
Has a place
On the mantle
Of my soul
©️ 2023 Mother Wintermoon 🙏 All Rights Reserved
I want to bring peace to your anguished soul
I want to alleviate your suffering
I want to bring your hidden wounds
Into the light
You will experience a powerful range of raw emotions
As you identify the source of each wound
Burning deep inside your core
Do not despair
I will be there with you
Touching each wound
With the salve of reclamation
Wrapping you in compassion
Imbuing you with strength
I ask nothing more of you than to open to me
So that I may begin the work
Of healing your spirit
And restoring your trust
I am here.
When you are ready
I will begin the work
I simply await your invitation…
© 2023 Mother Wintermoon 🙏
My heart is a monk
Finding alleyways of peace
On the noisy streets
Of a rowdy world
I walk with you
My unknown friend
In the space of one heartbeat
In the space of one Being
In the streetlight of one moment
Where I catch a glimpse
Of your vagabond soul
©️2023 Mother Wintermoon 🙏
You have untapped and silenced knowledge, from the time when your untethered soul dwelt in the bosom of the Eternal. There you learned everything about your divine origin and the work you have to do on earth to give expression to all the powers of your spirit and creative soul.
You are a lamplight of the Divine (Proverbs 20:27). When encountering universal truths, an inner-voice inside of you will exclaim, “Yes! I know that already!” You only had to be reminded, just as embers from the ashes are rekindled into a flame.
🩶
Green leaves heavy with dewdrops,
The ground soft and wet,
Fertile soil between my toes.
The heartbeat of mother earth matches mine
As I exalt in this refuge from the salty sweat of the sun
Raw, naked, unraveling…
I cleave the cleansing waters
A pinpoint of joy and sorrow
A fragment of dust and ashes
A tree struck by lightening
In this holy interlude between
Living and dying
Renewing and entwining
The moonlight softly whispering
“ebb and flow.”
©️ 2023 Mother Wintermoon🙏
Shake the brittle fallen leaves from the boughs of your heart Water the new buds that grow in their place Cut off the vampire shoots and root out the rotten roots So that your lateral roots can grow intertwined with every living grace ©️ 2023 Mother Wintermoon
May the blessing
of the soft, sweet rain be upon you—
May all the little flowers
in your spirit spring forth
Adaptation of a Celtic blessing~ 🙏
The sea speaks the love language of the moon
The moon arouses her tides, high and low
The angry waves are lulled into a sleepy roll
Echos of sandcastle dreams
Hang in the mist
shells and seaweed
laughter and make-believe
the warmth of the sun on her skin
Life’s fleeting pleasures can last forever
©️2023 Mother Wintermoon 🙏
I felt it was time to bring this 2020 post forward again.
1. I have the right to make choices that enrich my quality of life.
2. I have the right to self-actualize.
3. I have the right to express my pain and sadness without feeling selfish or guilty.
4. I have the right to establish my own relationship standards.
5. I have the right to say “no” or “yes” in my own best interests.
6. I have the right to follow my gut feelings and instincts.
7. I have the right to end conversations I find to be abrasive and offensive.
8. I have the right to voice my own lived experiences.
9. I have the right to make mistakes and learn from them.
10. I have the right to prioritize self-help and self-care.
11. I have the right to safely honor and express my ‘negative’ emotions.
12. I have the right to make my own judgement calls.
13. I have the right to change my mind in my own best interests.
14. I have the right to expect my home to be my safe sanctuary.
15. I have the right to require personal time and space.
16. I have the right to be serious.
17. I have the right to be playful and silly.
18. I have the right to decline a compromise that feels controlling and unfair to me.
19. I have the right to evolve and grow.
20. I have the right to require calm and clear lines of communication.
21. I have the right to outgrow unhealthy habits, patterns, and relationships.
22. I have the right to grieve my losses on my own timeline.
23. I have the right to decide who I can or cannot trust without pressure or interference.
24. I have the right to establish and maintain my boundaries.
25. I have the right not to forgive when forgiving feels unsafe, shaming, manipulative or forced.
©️ 2016 MW 🙏
I don’t feel this is expressed as well as I would like it to be, but I’m publishing it anyway. Thank you to every cherished reader and commenter that stops by for a visit with me, as I write my way through the wilderness of c-ptsd. Love is all…MW 🙏
I am the psalm of nature I am the rhythm of the sea I am the bloom of meadows I bring forth buds and seeds I am seasonal transitions All roots connect to me I am the solar rays I bring warmth and vitality I am the lunar cycle The tide ebbs and flows through me I am thunderstorms I quench mountain streams I am the trees that know To sprout leaves every spring I am the heartbeat of the earth I birth the elements into being I am mother, nurturer, giver Every plant and creature speaks to me I am raw maternal power A mighty force empowers me I am beginnings and endings Recurring ceaselessly I am wild extravagance I am biodiversity I am the soul of creativity Muses sing and paint and write through me When I am mistreated All will grieve and weep with me I am the tender valley I am rocks sweltering in the summer heat I am evenfall on the sandy shore I am the holy dirt beneath your feet I bleed when you are careless with me ©️ 2023 Mother Wintermoon🙏
A different version of my original post: Message from SOURCE
I am primordial knowledge I am the universal Qi I am potential I am potential transformed into a state of being I am feminine and masculine energies I am a tangible and intangible entity I am the perpetual process Changing from nothingness to existence From existence to nothingness Every joy and sorrow is stored within me I am the integrated form of information received What you perceive exists But what you do not perceive Also exists in me I am the promise of connection Everything is energy Everything energy is me I am fluid and flowing I conform to the shape Of your imagery I am a fathomless vessel Yearning with possibilities I am a soft warm cloak Offering comfort in your time of need I am known by different names There are abundant paths That lead to me I am the garden You are groundskeeper We are sacred synergy ©️2023 MW 🙏 All Rights Reserved
I have returned To the place of knowing To the place of unknowing What I have disowned I have returned To the place where I have reaped To the place where I have sown To the place where I listen for rhythms That resonate with my own I have returned to the place Where the path is tangled and overgrown Where the sun warms the stones Where we stood together Where I stand alone I have returned To the place of everything To the place of nothing To the place where I am stuck To the place where I roam I have returned To the place where my sins Are feathers from a torn pillow Scattering like plumes of snow I try to gather them all up To bury them properly In this place Without end In this place Where I am called To return again ©️ 2023 Mother Wintermoon 🩶
The sun rose cheerily over the horizon, dazzling the world awake with her tanager glow. As the sky slowly came alive with the chromaticity of a new day, cats curled smugly into her warmth, butterflies blessed her rays for keeping them aloft, and people found the missing spring in their step.
Even the moon lover greeted the sunrise as one would greet a faithful, but finite companion. To rise into the light of another day is a now moment, not a given.
©️ 2023
Fun fact: Butterflies need the light from the sun to warm the muscles they use to fly and stay aloft. When temperatures start to dip below 80ºF their flight muscles become stiff.
-A small depression- filled with grasses, roots, and hair
Lined by small pebbles along its outer rim
At daybreak she arises from her nest
*In exaltation*
From the base of a spiny cactus stem
She knows my secret name
And sings it as she ascends
Sharp, trilling, whistling notes
Mounting in pitch
A prayer
A psalm
A plea
A petition
G
N
I
S
I
R
©️2023 Mother Wintermoon 🙏
Larks usually nest at the base of a small shrub or cactus. This reflection is a little play on words that speaks to struggles with the spiny points of depression and the moments when it’s possible to arise from it in exaltation.
For OLN at dVerse, hosted by Linda at Charmed Chaos. My entry is for Animal Architecture, hosted by Kim, at Writing in North Norfolk who prompted us to write in any poetic form, focused on a creature building its home.
The Wintermoon Chronicles start here: Little Wintermoon and Maiden Wintermoon
The snowfall of the night was heavy and unrelenting, the countryside blanketed in layers of white. As the evening sky filled with stars, the Winter Moon rises, her presence seemingly impersonal and indifferent.
The sleepy town below, quietly illuminated by her presence, had forgotten that the Winter Moon held a secret. The silver orb was in fact an elemental entity of immense power and potential. Each night, as it passed across the sky, it lent its power and blessing to those adventurous enough to seek it out.
On this night, one such person was the Woman. Her grayish-green eyes held a knowledge of the world, for she had been drawn to the Winter Moon since girlhood. According to the ancient myths of her people, it was said that one who sanctified the Winter Moon would be blessed with the powers of Winter.
Donning her black winter cloak with the snow white trim and crimson red collar, the Woman walked the snowy path to a clearing, while the Winter Moon watched over her. In the deep pockets of her thick, warm cloak she carried with her four clarifying, protective, balancing and edifying stones of selenite, onyx, peridot and jacinth.
While the earth slept and dreamed, the Woman listened to the silence and the hush of Winter speak to her. As soon as the silver rays of the Winter Moon danced across her face, and the night sky glowed a pale shade of silvery-blue, the woman began her blessing of the Winter Moon.
The Woman could feel the concealed presence of the snow faeries, storm faeries, and winter tree faeries around her and she blessed them too, praying for their grace and approval. Mice, deer, rooks, robins, and a snowy owl watched from the snow-laden ground and branches of the trees overhead.
When the blessing was complete, the Woman pushed back the hood of her cloak, allowing the Winter Moonlight to blend with the random streaks of silver in her hair that marked her passage through the Shadow realm and her encounters with the grim reaper. Even with her head momentarily uncovered and glistening with snowflakes, the Woman felt a sense of warmth rising from within and a surge of strength flowing through her veins. She had been granted the powers of Winter.
The knowledge of night, endurance, life, death, rebirth, roots, dualism, transformation, dreams, and ancient prophets would stay with her forever. She could feel the pull of the earth’s tides turning. The personal alchemy of the Winter Moon transformed her connection to Father Sky and Mother Earth.
Even her Spiritual Mentors from the celestial realms occasionally sought out her embrace, for to her surprise, there were times when they too needed a Motherly Figure. Despite, or perhaps because of, all their Knowledge of the Multiverse, they sometimes felt lost and lonely.
When the Winter Moon revealed the Woman’s Soul Name bestowed upon her by the Eternal Creator, she felt a rush of freedom. Never again would she be confined to one identity or one pathway. She understood the significance of a Soul Name and always honored it with complete immersion in its essence.
She never forgot that night, or the tangible presence of the Winter Moon. Every Winter night thereafter, as the Winter Moon rose majestic, she would take a few moments to say a blessing of gratitude for the Winter Moon’s gifts, both revealed and secret. It was her special bond with the Winter Moon which kept bright, clear, crystalline hope alive.
My dear friend, what does a blessing over a winter moon look like to you? What words do you imagine being said? If you’d like to write a blessing to say over the winter moon, please do leave your blessing in the comments.
©️ 2023 All Rights Reserved
Love is all…MW 🙏
Although she was only eight winters old, she already understood the importance of the Winter Moon and felt drawn to the chilled air of Winter. It was a hushed time of healing and rebirth. With it came the promise of a new beginning.
She was so enthralled by the Winter Moon shining through the window panes, that she failed to notice her family had gathered around the fireplace, whispering secrets in an ancient tongue and debating the messages within “the riddles.” She had always wanted to join in, but her father had explained that she wasn’t yet old enough to receive the knowledge or attempt discernment of “the riddles.”
Feeling left out, she begged him to take her outdoors to see the Winter Moon. Surprisingly, her father agreed despite the late hour, but only if she promised to hold onto his hand and stay close. She eagerly agreed and grabbed her knitted scarf and hooded woolen cloak with the fuzzy wool-lined pockets off the carved wooden hooks by the doorway. Her mother called the color of her cloak, “blueberry,” and it was her favorite item of clothing. They didn’t have much, but what they had was cherished.
As soon as she stepped out into the winter night wearing the tall winter boots and hand-knitted gloves that were gifts from her grandmother, she felt the magic. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but she wasn’t disappointed. The sky was alive with stars, the air was laced with crystalline frost and the cold was so intense she could feel it in her very bones.
But the most amazing thing was the Winter Moon, shining with a ghostly light and glimmering like an ice crystal, both beautiful and powerful in equal measure. She wanted to stay outdoors just to keep its light upon her face, but her father insisted upon going inside after only a few minutes.
The entire evening she felt she was wearing a cloak of peace and tranquility. Intuitively she knew that despite any difficulties, the Winter Moon would bring her comfort and healing.
When the girl grew to be a maiden, she was memorized by the Winter Moon illuminating the night sky with its pale light, casting its long shadows over the quiet town as it slept.
She had always loved the winter for its quiet beauty, as if the entire world was submerged in a silent and mysterious dream.
She wanted to go out into the shadowy cover of night, to feel the light of the Winter Moon on her skin. She threw on her heavy slate gray cloak, the color of storm clouds, and stepped into the frosty gloam. For as far as she could see, the snow silently carpeted the earth in a stillness she could read with all of her senses. In the chatty hush, she heard stories woven and told over centuries.
She looked up to the sky, her breath forming a white cloud in the cold air. She felt as if she could touch the Winter Moon, as if its light was wrapping her in a safe embrace.
She was pulled to the silvery circle, feeling that same magical pull that guided her ancient ancestors.
She stayed outside until the chill of the night told her she must return home. The snow crunched under her boots as the Winter Moon illuminated her steps homeward. Even indoors by the wood burning stove, a piece of the Winter Moon resided with her in her heart.
©️ 2023 All Rights Reserved / MW 🤍
Every child has known God,
~Hafiz
Not the God of names,
Not the God of don’ts,
Not the God who ever does
Anything weird,
But the God who knows only 4 words.
And keeps repeating them, saying:
“Come Dance with Me, come dance.”
I was, I am, I will be
Your voice
Your eyes
Your hands
Your feet
Your ears
Your roots
Under the mighty oak tree
In the depths of the dappled sunlight
In the call of the nightingale
In the rush of the wind
In the beating of my heart
I feel Your presence
Wash over me in waves
As I edge closer to Your shore
Barefoot and vulnerable
Come
Dance with Me
Come Dance
©️ 2023 Mother Wintermoon
Those of us who live in quiet places,
Eavesdrop on leaves
The humming of bees
The rustling tree branches
Outside our window panes
Those of us who lost our way to Elysium
Get lost in the clickety-clack of the keyboard
Under a restless moon
In a room strewn
With words
Falling
Failing
Whispering
Scrambling for purchase
©️2023 Mother Wintermoon
The Sky shimmers — a shiny blue canopy of hopes and dreams,
The moon beckons
Alluring and luminous
Enticing lovers and thieves
Write a love letter
Put it in your pocket
Bury it under the stars
Let your prayers go free
Unravel completely
Let the clouds
Seep into
Your
Bones
True fact:
Rain clouds
Are only gray
From below
©️ 2023
Quadrille for dVerse and our host De at Whimsygizmo. Our prompt word is “map.”
I came to this prompt with a whimsical mindset and ended writing my own little country song. 🤠
I’ve got a map in my hand
And a pocketful of dreams
I’m searching for a way
To escape this scene
On the road before me
I see the world all laid out
While I travel life’s highways
With my tail lights burned out
Mother Wintermoon 