Last Bealtaine, I bloomed with sensuality and celebration. A sumptuous poem poured from me, rich with feminine fire, fertility and joy. This Bealtaine, the energy is different. I’ve been unwell for months, moving through the underworld of healing. It’s been hard, slow and deeply internal but I recognise the shifting—quietly, painfully, beautifully.
This year, my poem isn’t radiant with erotic power, it speaks from the bones of transformation. From the place where things die to become something new. Often we find the profound in honouring both the fire and the ashes of our journey and sometimes we do not enter Bealtaine renewed but rather alchemise in our Samhain year.
This too is sacred
This too is Bealtaine.
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