Shedding with An Cailleach

Returning to the golden gorse land, I am met with the Cailleach’s bellowing breath.

Hair of ash and heart of ember. She, I remember.

Her kisses wrap around me, and I face the ecstasy of breathlessness as she strips me of my cobweb-covered places.

Her blankets of rain cleanse the dusty corners of my consciousness.

Journeying deeper to meet her wisdom, I crane like an ancient tree surrendering to the decades of Weather’s whispered secrets.

I lean back into her. She holds me in her palms, caressing my sores.

With each strike of wind I feel my bones crack open. My wings, rising from the bleeding, raw space.

The Cailleach tells me that it is time. Leave the weight of your old skin behind.

I take flight, dancing between the gales of past and present, control and surrender, constriction and expansion.

I feel her embrace as she pulls me by wing tip without hesitation. She guides me towards the glorious cornucopia within myself that had faintly glimmered in the periphery but remained unearthed.

Her voice penetrates my being. She says, “It is time now to bask in your own abundance. It is time now to polish the primordial treasures of your soul.”

Bog Cotton watches on and calls to me to have a safe flight. I tell it that the destination is so fruitful, the journey does not matter much. Each breath has had its own language of bliss. And if my journey is anything like how you sway in the wind to the delight of the watching mountains, well then, dear one, I will continue to be carried through the clouds with deep grace.

Art: Uwe Jarling