Ancient Voice

And she opened her mouth and sang.

An ancient voice rose up from deep within the heart of her.

A voice of old stories and well trodden paths, a voice that knew cold winds and hearth fires.

She sang of remembering, of honouring. She sang of old, old truths.

The souls who heard it, remembered it from before, and for a moment their hearts were warm and their spirits flew free.



Awen Clement - 2016 (c) 

Honouring the Bones

My sister,
I honour your bones.
I cradle your bones,
As we are cradled in the palm of the Great Mother

I honour your stories.
I honour the stories you hold in your bones.
The stories of life and death and birth and grief and living.

I see you.
I see the strength,
The strength and love and courage in your bones.
I see you sister, daughter, mother, grandmother.
I see the ancestors.
I see them walking in your bones.

My sister,
I love you.
I love and honour you.
I love and honour the bones of you.
As I hold and honour you,
So do you honour me.



I offer a ceremony of 'Closing the Bones' as part of my healing practice for women.  These words arose from deep within as I contemplated this work.

The sculpture in the image is 'Cradle Woman' by Ember Vincent (www.embervincent.co.uk)