I posted this poem in 2015, but it is relevant and needed again.
When a woman feels alone, when the room
is full of daemons,” the Nootka tribe
Tells us, ‘The Old Woman will be there.”
She has come to me over three thousand miles
And what does she have to tell me, troubled
“by phantoms in the night”?
Is she really here?
What is the saving word from so deep in the past.
From as deep as the ancient root of the redwood,
From as deep as the primal bed of the ocean,
From as deep as a woman’s heart sprung open
Again through a hard birth or a hard death?
Here under the shock of love, I am open
To you, Primal spirit, one with rock and wave,
One with survivors of flood and fire,
Who have rebuilt their homes a million times,
Who have lost their children and borne them again.
The words I hear are strength, laughter, endurance.
Old Woman I meet you deep inside myself.
There in the rootbed of fertility,
World without end, as the legend tells it.
Under the words you are my silence.
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This poem captures the connection we seek with the wise old woman archetype. What does this old woman tell you when you are unable to sleep at night? ("Let it go, my child. Nothing can be done until morning.") What saving word does she say to soothe your fearful heart? Who is this eternal grandmother, the "primal spirit," who travels 3,000 miles to be at your bedside? She is the one who has seen it all, lived through it all - from birth and death, to joy and sadness. She is there. 'What words would she whisper in your ear? Strength, laughter, endurance? Or is there something more? Close your eyes and breathe her in. Feel her hand on your shoulder as she says, "Do not be afraid. Your time has come." She exists in the rootbed of fertility. "World without end, as the legend tells it. Under the words [she is your] silence."
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