My Wild Woman Spoke to Me. {poetry}
Sometimes when a poem comes, you catch it by the tail.
Sometimes when words come into being, tears start to flow.
As if I was being spoken to, a presence and urge took over the birthing of this poem.
It came rushing along with memories of what I can only describe as ancient, visceral and mysteriously familiar.
This poem is the recollection of my journey encountering the spirit of the wild woman and receiving her direct messages to my soul.
I knew I could not betray her calling, and so in the following days, I retreated deep into the woods and surrendered in solitude.
I howled and wept for her to appear before me.
And she came rushing from thin air, in forms of dance, melodies, and symbols.
She appeared in dew drops and in footsteps.
She lavished me with nutrients for the psyche.
Enveloped by her magic and medicine, I rejoiced.
I rejoiced, for she is always with me wherever I am and in whatever I create.
Sometimes poetry is simply a doorway to commune with and listen to the whispers of the wild woman.
She speaks the language of inspiration, passion, and eternal truths.
She lives in you and me, and in all the extended expression of our hearts.
Let her speak to you and guide you home.
***
My wild woman spoke to me,
I heard her loud and clear.
She said I am forgetting my mother tongue,
that I am growing distant to the moon,
that the whispers of the wind no longer sing to me,
that the rhythm of the earth no longer moves me to tears,
that the fire in my eyes is faint and dying,
that my womb is stagnant and aching in drought.
She said, do not forget what you are made of.
Do not forget the miracles of this life,
the sacred wisdom this body contains.
Do not dishonor, dismiss, or disavow your commitment to truth,
To the unfolding of life’s mystery.
Do not become an outsider to your own culture.
Do not murder your creativity, gifts, and depth
for the sake of mediocre belonging.
You’ve always roamed free in the arms of your beloved.
Throughout cycles and worlds between worlds.
Because that which is alive never truly dies.
My wild woman looked me in the eye.
And without a word, I understood.
That she belongs to me, and I to her.
That in this world of sanitized beliefs,
her survival depends solely on my devotion to her.
That my infesting wound of emptiness,
the famine of my soul,
Is for her to heal.
Yet it is up to me.
It is up to me to invite her.
It is up to me to initiate with my deepest yearning
It is up to me to surrender to her unpredictable, untamable, wildish nature.
It is up to me to wholeheartedly provide shelter for her ancestral knowing.
It is up to me to trust in her magic.
I spoke to my wild woman,
She heard me loud and clear.
She is right here in her ancient bones,
dancing between the spaces of these words
***
Jennifer Kumer is an artist, poetess, and a devoted guide to awakening women to their unique gifts through the bridge of embodiment and creative expression. Through her live events, 1:1 mentoring and offerings, poetry, and mixed-media art, she’s here to inspire you to embrace the full spectrum of wholehearted living with vulnerability and passion, while making it all feel like a journey to home. Her adoring fans have called her a “visionary goddess” and “a presence that cracks you open in the most loving and sensuous way, leaving you to feel inspired for the rest of your life.” And when she is not in go-go-go mode, you can find her inventing vegan, gluten-free sugar-free desserts, performing spoken-words, exploring her sexual landscape, and googling for her next adventure.
***
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