Howling moon, a deep belly echoing out from a raw throat

Call of her wild carried with the whistle of the wind

Crimson dripping

Puddles intermingling with the wetness of the dampened grass

As if the power of this pool of red

Energetically connecting with the grounded

Force of that deep pull from below

As above her womanhood

Freeing itself conjoining with the force of Mother Nature

A history of sisters

The coven of power pulled from the blood

Not the blood of the mysterious patriarchy

That has attempted power and control

Demeaning and punishing the flow of this energy

Casting shame and doubt over the power that is our bodies

Here she is