In the Diktean Cave, Crete

Dedicated with love and Goddess passion to Marija Gimbutas

The sound of us singing to the Mother in the cave,
our voices so clear, our intent so clear, harmonics with the stone.
We filled Her once again with women's voices.
Making offerings in the niches -- of rose petals, bread, touches,
apple, and smoke offerings from Dittany of Crete.
Filling the niches once again to Goddess
so the remembering can continue,
so our relationship to Her can grow.
Feeling Her wetness in our hands, the roundness of stone,
smelling Her moistness from the cave,
hearing the beautiful sound
of Marija's voice, the grandmother teaching us once again.
Going down sweating in pain, emerging up stronger,
Seeing the light in the opening, with trees crowning Her.
Passing remains of small beeswax candles, making
more offerings of Dittany, sacred to the Goddess of Childbirth.
Smelling the smoke of oregano, smoke from fire,
fire from candle, candle from wax, wax from bee,
from flower, from earth, from Goddess.


Excerpt © Willow LaMonte 1991

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