Art & poetry by Lauren Curtis, USA

CONE OF POWER

At least 70 of us
All women
All Sophia
Which equals Wisdom.
A ring of interlaced fingers.
Clockwise movement
Courses through us
Like a primordial soup.

The tribe enters
Our souls
Drumming and clapping
Like an electric storm.
The thunder comes
From our voices
Now one voice
In three parts ...
She is here!

Ancient screams
Pass through
Modern lips
Plucking our chords
Like Orpheus.

Bring it down ...
Bring it down ...
It rests on the floor
In the Earth.
Back to her words.
We called it out.
And replaced it.
Grounded again
We are now wiser.