Temple Poem

by Bethroot Gwynn

It is not just that I love one woman

Invite her into the hushed temple of my most sacred self

Travel with her into the far corners

of her most private being.

It is not just that I am coupled;

I have coupled with her, and with her, and with her.

I am tripled, and quadrupled.

I am a throng of worshippers

reverent before our own images

jubilant to invent our own litanies.

I, quietly, by the thousands,

have stepped into a shrine of my own making.

I, and the multitudes of women who have slipped

silently away from the man's ceremonies.

Quickly!  Here is our path --

They never imagine that we have dared to come

right into the heartbeat of Love

naming it Woman,    calling it Holy,

They never suspect that we will decorate the altar with mirrors

dance praise to breast and womb    as it was in the beginning.

As it is now,   the tabernacle is invisible

and they cannot read our codes.

Sister pilgrims file into the circle,

we speak in tongues of song and drum

Shhh!   Do not chant the mysteries outside!

Blasphemy;  this love of ourselves

Heresy;  this adoring.

I have peered behind the inmost veil

and discovered a myriad ofg me --

I, and all these tribeswomen, charmed with power to fire galaxies

mapping new ventures of soul

spell-bound to each other and to the earth

as it evermore shall be.

from PreacherWoman for the Goddess

Poems, Invocations, Plays and Other Holy Writ

by Bethroot Gwynn

Published by Mother Tongue Ink 2017