Today I see You…

A Few thoughts this week….

I want to know you like this… I am a romantic and believe in the love that happens when souls collide. Not dependent love, connected love. I write about love like this because we need freedom from love that shelters us, that restricts us, that keeps us from reaching so deep that we feel the undercurrents of why we are together.


One day she remembered….that she was all those things she sought to connect with.
The wind, her breath and emotions.
The sea, her intuition and womb.
The earth, her wisdom and form.
The sky, her expansive soul. 🌛Find comfort and grounding in the knowledge that you are part of all that Is. We are never outside of the mystery. We are the mystery in human form. ❤
Photo credit: Ariel Lustre on Unsplash


“The wildish task of a man is to find the true names of a woman, and not to misuse that knowledge to seize power over her, but rather to comprehend the numinous substance from which she is made, to let it was over him, amaze him, shock him, even spook him. And to stay with it. And to sing out her names over her. It will make her eyes shine. It will make his eyes shine.” C.P. ESTES

I am studying the work of Clarissa Pinkola Estes and find this quote especially powerful. To know a woman and love her, a man must not be afraid of her nature and many names. She cannot be pushed into boxes nor contained there so that her mate will feel safe. She is Wild, like fire. This applies to a woman’s every relationship as well, and to any lover she may take. A lover worthy of Wild Woman withstands her many seasons and returns time and again with questions about her journey. And she reciprocates this love from her most liberated heart.


Heart hugs and soul kisses! Find me here ~Instagram


A Love Poem to Mist-Covered Mountains. {Listen}

You pull me into your mystery—

Your cool, damp, pine-needle-littered oasis.

 The secret of your mountain top revealed,

Only if I dare to tread there.

With bears, and wolves, and mountain lions.


I long to lie down in your mossy softness—

To breathe the wind that blows through your branches,

Where raindrops fall to drench my thirst…


For silence,

For beauty,

For scattered, bone-warming sunshine,

For unraveling secrets that haunt my being,

I can let my tears flow deep into your earthen bosom.

The Earth, my Mother, cradles me here.

Restore me, gentle spirit—

It is here that I call home.



His. {A Poem}



I was his when the first star burst onto the midnight sky

I was his when the first leaf fell on an autumn wind

I was his when the first rain soaked the desert sand


His when he smiled at me

His when he spoke to me

His when my pillow welcomed his tears


I knew him like the sound of bird calls in the morning

Like the whir of dragonfly wings

Like the melting of snow


He has always been imprinted onto the canvas of my soul

Always an echo of my very own heartbeat

Always the river that threatened to drown me

More here…plus a little surprise!

Her Winter Dream. {Poem}


She longs for winter’s frost—

The cold, crisp days that promise rest.

She longs for silence on a snowy day,

A blizzard that keeps visitors at bay.


She aches to find a corner by a well-kept fire—

To snuggle into with a mason jar of wine.


To take her masks off,

To air her wounds,

To leave behind

A year’s worth of sins.


To find her center and feed its growth;

She’s a huntress who’s laid down her arrows and bow.


She’s winter’s mistress,

Undressed for the night,

The long winter months of sitting by her drum,

Finding the heartbeat of the earth that sustains her;

Remembering her roots,

Her ancestor’s voices:


Winter is for solace and secret midnight whispers.


Winter has promised to cradle her gently,

A papoose for her hurts,

Her tears stain a chalice,

Carved from a tree

That has seen many seasons.

She lets go, her strength now measured in sobs;

Winter will listen as she unburdens her soul.


Wild woman, why do you rush around so?

Sit down by my side, and tell me your woes.

Summer is over, and autumn has flown.

Spring is not yet,

So give winter your tears.


Light candles, burn incense,

Sing old songs,

Read poems,

Putter around with no goal in mind,

Just rest in the silence you have finally found.


You can scream at the sky,

Count all the stars,

Play in the moonlight,

Discover your wild,

Let your hair grow, invite lovers in—

Winter is for wolves and for howling at the moon.


She longed for winter—

The savage storm,

So she could be invisible,

And embrace the unknown.

Featured on Women’s Spiritual Poetry! ‘A Woman’s Touch’


It’s incredibly exciting to have a poem I wrote a while back for elephant journal featured on Women’s Spiritual Poetry.

Check out their blog, and their FB page (links at bottom). Many beautiful voices writing meaningful words can be found within the blog roll. You won’t be disappointed.

How important is it for us as women to have out voice heard? It’s been a long journey…

A Woman’s Touch…

These words floated into my awareness as I was sitting by the fire at home, dreaming about a lover. To be clear, I have a lover; a man, my partner of twenty-two years, who is the inspiration for many of my writings.

But the lover I was thinking about was the woman lover I was still searching for. I am bi-sexual, an orientation that is often difficult to express within a relationship. I am blessed that my man is devoted to my life journey and I have the freedom to be wholly myself.

I know what I feel like to my partner, and what a woman’s touch means to him. I know what it means to me, to touch a woman and to be touched by one. Poetry and prose is rich in descriptions of what we women feel like physically—but we are also spiritual creatures, and when we share our bodies, we also share our divinity.

In my daily life, I practice witchcraft. It aligns me with universal mysteries. Women, to me, are some of the best magic there is. To be unwrapped by a woman is to expose one’s tenderness and one’s fierceness. There is no way to truly articulate what it means to be touched by a woman, because she is sharing her heart, her soul, her body and her energy.

A woman is like the circle, sacred, with no beginning and no end, she just is; and that is enough.

And so…my thoughts:

A woman’s touch flows from her heart.

Check in with her before you lie naked. Her heart is a changeable river of emotions. You will swim or you will drown.

She will decide.

Just surrender.

A woman’s touch is sensitive.

Intuitive and alert, she will navigate your essence and respond to what she finds.

A woman’s touch is warm.

She will pour herself into you, because she is giving by nature.

Sparks fly from her hands and her lips. Don’t underestimate her fire.

A woman’s touch is experienced.

Her hands hold all that is sacred. All that is medicine to your body and soul.

A woman’s touch is sensual.

She takes time to explore herself and wants to explore you. Slow down. Give her room to roam the landscape of your body. Let her touch you in places that you are afraid of.

A woman’s touch is Divine.

She is Goddess. But don’t put her on a pedestal, she is Human. She’s no object for your desire. She is the deep well that you will fall into and find respite in.

A woman’s touch is soft…

…unless you ask her to be rough, and then she might surprise you. Bring her feathers, bring her whips; let her choose what she needs.

A woman’s touch is pregnant.

…with all that she is and all that she creates from the ocean of her womb. Don’t be afraid. She will let you stir her magic cauldron if you respect her power.

A woman’s touch is reverent.

She will take what you give of yourself and store it lovingly within herself. You are safe. Allow her to show her most tender side.

A woman’s touch is thirst-quenching.

Drink her in. She will satisfy. © Monika Carless – previously published @