Slowly she walks with grace and presence,
Wisdom and experience are the jewels that adorn her fingers her toes,
Crown and ankles.
A velvet robe rests lightly over her shoulders,
With two matching pouches,
Dangling each side of her as she walks.
Slowly, graceful, with presence.
The robe is her own but has been passed down for countless generations
Worn for a time by many before her.
Reaching into her pouches she takes out precious stones, shells, and wildflowers
Scattering them either side of her as she walks
Slowly, gracefully, with presence.
In each of these offerings is something that ignites something within those who find them
A message of direction, a thought, a feeling a memory, a new place to go …
She’s not an angel, a god, nor a guru,
She is human, woman, aunty, mother.
She is sister, spirit, energy, love.
