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“… and may a humble love army of engoldened midwife-warriors rise up in sacred action to
redeem humanity” ( Andrew Harvey)

We are already living in the new year, weeded with new challenges and fear. The washing is
blowing in blustery wind and the world squirms in a wasteland that stretches beyond
imaginary posts we have created, challenging the slow burn of a bewildering war on
meaning-making. The wildflowers are marching to new territory in search of their lost
fragrance and the living roots of dying bush, trees and flowers are mutating into talismans.
And I wonder why I am not wearing the new red dress that my beloved gave me a few years

Last night I looked at the sky and the stars in the naked darkness of the night and saw the
golden light of the moon and the stars playing with the tree and bougainvillaea and I knew
that the little gold in life is in everything. It is a living script of simple union, a constant

this night I sing to
the “engoldened mid-wife warriors”
reaching to the stars
the blazing fire
of the little gold glowing
the simple union

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