Her hands were scratched, a little bloody. Not that she had silken hands. Quite the contrary. Her’s were worker hands and she wasn’t much for smelly lotions and potions to make one beautiful. She had more pressing matters to tend.
Her climb was more difficult than she remembered. The brush, thicker than usual. That was odd since water had been a bit scarce. But here she was, wiping her hands on her long blue cape that looked like night sky. A little dirt was a blessing. A bit of blood, a consecration.
Moving aside branches, she found a space just big enough to stand within. A circle. It was the calling place.
Looking around she saw the streets below darkened with fear and sadness. Was she looking at the land or within her heart?
She felt their voices. A slight breeze. She raised her head.
as in long ago on her mother’s sweet breast
a place of no worry
two of them
Source and child of hope
May all beings be safe
Cars ended their journey
a sigh of relief released into the ether
footsteps tiptoed not to wake the still
in and out, a mantra, Earth’s own breath
May all beings be at peace
A trickle of blood, life
a speck of pathogen, an ending
all beings connected to diagnosis
May all beings be healthy
Climb away from fear
allow it to rest at your feet
be still to hear their call
May all beings live with grace
When sun nudged through the branches to stroke her cheek, she stood dropping her cape to feel the warmth.
The trip down the side of the shock would offer new perspective and nourish wisdom gained in her quarry.