Memory at the Base of the Great Oak

There are cave paintings

on the walls of my womb

Left in blood and ash

by the first humans

Here are stories

from the beginnings of time –

the strange, new creatures

feasts and fires

the long, wet battle nights

Here are the symbols

of God and Oneness –

ancient and unquestioned

growing more clear

with the shedding of

each cycle

I too often forget they are there

pressing into my cells

reminding me

Who I Am.