The Women’s Circle
A chapel of trust envelops our circle,
A place where truth exists,
A place where we can wear purple.
Sometimes we howl from pain and memory.
A soothing word, compassionate, insightful,
Tempers those thoughts, offers new perspectives.
We share jubilations and sorrows in movement and dance,
Mad drumming and laughter,
And talking, talking, talking.
A lovely buzzing bespeaks tradition –
Our foremothers who drummed and laughed
And talked and talked and talked.
Revelatory and elemental,
With all the terror of a winter storm
And the sweet gentleness of spring.
We engage in rituals, pre-arranged and specific.
Buffalo women, Christian, Jewish—
Clever talismans guiding us through the seasons.
Our Lady of the Altar stands steadfast, reminding us of our bond.
The glow of rich mulled wine and the reliability of fresh-popped corn
Set the stage for ceremony.
We listen and take note.
Who is hurting? Who needs to be heard?
We circle around pain and anger,
Listening, offering only what we know.
We circle around joy too –
Reveling in our sisters’ tales of travel,
Marveling at our sisters’ growth.
We cycle through the seasons together, bold warrior women,
Facing each challenge as it comes.
The strength of our group provides defense
Against the harsher elements.
Summer brings its lusty rapture –
Toes unseen since the previous year
Summoning memories of summers past:
Previous lovers lying with us on moist grass, under starlit skies,
Best friends staying over to talk all night
Because it was summer.
Tawny legs and white shorts give way now
To flowing dresses, graceful movement, soulful majesty.
Buffalo women under the steady gaze
Of Our Lady of the Altar.
Autumn arrives, as it always does,
Forever catching us off guard.
A momentary pall as we mourn another summer’s passing.
Moving toward acceptance, we embrace new colors,
Commenting brightly on the crisp fall air.
Knowing how quickly it passes,
We glory in the filtered autumn light,
Bathing sky and lake in colors brilliant and pale.
It is a time of preparation
Of mind, body, soul, and hearth.
Our lake in the sky turns wintry and ponderous
Until the first wondrous snowfall –
Downy flakes and all.
Winter hardly seems ominous.
With the exuberance of children we throw back our heads,
Thrust out our tongues to catch the snow’s purity
In holy communion with God’s divinity.
Overwrapped in puffy clothing, runny red noses,
We brave deadly roads in the dead of winter.
Undaunted, we circle back again
To listen, to laugh, to be present for one another
And for ourselves.
Someone may be hurting; someone may need to be heard.
We listen, undisturbed.
Here, in our women’s circle
Where trust is found
And friendships formed,
We open our hearts
As Ladies of the Lake.
We celebrate our feminine essence as one,
Resurrecting the child within
Who loves to play in all weather,
Outside or in.
Delighting in the treasures of each miraculous season,
Reflected in every face of this glorious circle.
Fierce women, all! I celebrate you.
I wish you joy and merriment
As we circle together once again
Through the turning seasons.