The Cairns of Carrowkeel

Image: (c) Jamie K. Reaser
Ireland, 2003

I, walking past the
vaginal stone,
crouch and kneel

to enter Her.

There is a pooled

wetness that seeps

in the

darkness.

Passage.

Slowly, with a

gentle touch to

ancient walls.

Only when I reach

the wide openness of

womb do I

become erect.

Receptive and empty -

this is a place of

mooning,

where the implanted divine

can gestate and

mature.

Each devotee an egg,

each inspiration -

sperm.

A pulsing life force

vibrates in the

chambers.

We are three:

She, me, and the

potential that dwells

within.

Cycling -

death and re-birth.

An old way of being

is buried when

new life

or a new age

emerges.

(c) 2003-2018/Jamie K. Reaser
A Talking Waters poem

Feel free to share