It is time, friends, to take to the road
To sing again to old bones,
To seek out the old places,
And find each other once more.
It is the moment, sisters,
And we are the ones,
We are all chosen.
The ancestors are holding the door.
We know each other, women
Not by clothes, nor the trinkets we wear,
But by our naked souls
And the way they glimmer in the dark.
Take my hands, brothers,
And drop the old story
To make space for the ancient songs,
To know what our ancestors knew.
It is time, famlly, to root ourselves deep,
To wind love around rocks,
To plant hands in the earth,
To make beauty with our bodies.
It is time,
It is now.
Catherine Pawson, 2017
Image from Earth Pathways Diary 2018, art by Angie Rooke ‘The Valley Green’