Nidra

She descends her mountain, descends, descends,
opens up the lavish walls of her river, crashing, crashing over rocks bedded deep in the earth.
She becomes the birds above, the fish beneath,
makes a promise to be present in all things, an oath to be present in all things. Her breathing becomes as steady as the 'Moor wind around her.
 
She relaxes her fingers,
small
to tall  
and back, thin
to thick,
her wrists,
her elbows,
her shoulders,
neck,
blades,
breasts,
ribcage,
spine,  
hips,
vulva,
buttocks,
thighs,
knees,
calf,
ankle,
feet, ball, arch
toes
from small
to tall and back, thin
to thick.
She repeats, she repeats.
 
She goes within,
to her oak, aged and challenged,  
reliable in all things,
the warrior of her life.
She stands before it,
appreciating it beneath the brightness of the Full Moon
swallowing darkness,
there at the base of her tree is an egg,
a blood crimson egg,
oiled, tended, small,
 
small,
her beacon of womanhood, the truth of her ovaries,
the embodiment of enduring,
the entirety of strength and vulnerability combined.
She forgives it's challenges, she forgives herself too.
The Full Moon is bright and clean,
bright and clean.
 
She is the bird above, the fish beneath
and she
closes the resilient walls of her placid river,  
gently lapping, lapping over rocks bedded deep in the earth.
Her promise echoes:
be present in all things.
Her breathing is as steady as this 'Moor wind around her
and courageously she ascends the mountain.