Red
the first day womanhood
ever spoke from my virgin womb.
I saw red
seeping through the wounds on my chest
that made me love myself again.
Red were the eyes of life
that gazed at me as I breathed my prayers into a bundle of white sage.
Red was the moon
to which the wolf howled,
asking to be born again.
I saw red
when a gust of wind lifted the fire's flame
to kiss my face.
I saw red
before I ever loved a man.
Red is the Road I walk
to stay close to my Creator.
I saw red
in the glow of the whispering Grandfather stones.
Red was the life in which I birthed
when I decided fear
was no longer going to be a part of my nature.
I saw red
dance with the spirit of the Hawk
on the days I spent alone with Creator.
I see red every month now,
red the color of letting go,
deep red,
crimson red.
Red that is strong and wise,
red that is in every woman.
I saw red
pulling heads off of roses,
only to reveal how they bleed all the way to the center.
I saw red
painted on my body
the night I danced to meet the Mother Earth.
I saw red
carrying prayers across the ocean.
I saw red in the horizon,
in the space between worlds.
I saw red in times of both love and pain,
and I will see red
for the rest of my days.
I will bleed red,
and know that in just one single drop,
I am all of life,
and all of death the same.
Red - the colour of passion and mystery. Renewal and rebirth. The list goes on. Beautiful poem. And my condolences for your loss - may that loss become a gain some day.
Thank you love, I have already gained an angel, and so much more. Much love