I have seen you enter
that space reserved for few,
silent, protected by the Light.
On your palms, the stars rest
a token mark that claims you
for the good of all.
You have journeyed with the cross
mountains high and rivers deep
furrowed places in your heart.
Echoes of the goddess song
are resonating deep within waiting
to unravel your spirit ribbons.
Can you see now?
The time is near, the season has arrived
for blessings of the Holy One.
Long enough this walk on stone
long enough the yearning to be free
and light as the heron . . .
Muse bird of the gods
the long legged one who slices water
unannounced with mystic dance.
So for you, the gift of healing
for you, the gift of light
for you, this song on heron's wings.
Joanne Cucinello © 2007
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