Feminine Principles

Under Mama Quilla’s lunar spell,
Condor, king of the skies, quelled
his vanity –

realised true power floats
and hums in gentle hoverings, soft
and efficacious. Red-throated
Hummingbird, my daemon,
you teach this lesson well.

Seen as a lady, men tried to stop me travelling
to sketch and honour Mother Nature’s gifts,
but chirp-tutored, I ignored their words
I slipped through dumb restraints like silk
pulled swiftly through a ring.

My hours see me shift and change,
adopting many potent guises:
translucent under moonlight –
sharp and clear, as midday’s bells
chime, in afternoon’s bright sunshine.

Mama Quilla’s lunar spells meld
with Hummingbird’s daytime magic. Thus made
strong, a woman, I have no need of condors or of kings.