A Gratefulness Prayer for Womanhood

K. Barratt

goddess breaking through rock

Let’s silently give thanks for the melody of life;

Let’s give thanks for the cycles of life,

Which allows us to experience its many facets,

From child, to girl, to woman, to mother, to wise one.

Let’s give thanks to the feminine light in us,

Which connects us to archetypes of beauty, creativity,

Courage, tenderness and love,

Be them called Great Mother, Venus, Mary, Diana,

Parvati, Osum or Gaia.

Blessed be our femininity,

Our mothering potential

That expresses itself in so many forms

Of caring, loving, creating actions.

Let’s give thanks and step with pride

Into the women we are,

Each with her own strength,

Each with her own gift,

Eeach with her own way

Of embodying the Eternal Feminine.

And so it is.


The Shadows

K. Barratt



We move lightly,

The shadows.

On the wall we stretch our fingers

Over the plaster to touch

The flower, whose fragrance

We’ll never know.

We dance with the wind

Scurrying down the door,

And the drapes in the

Front room, pretending

We are the princes and princesses

You read about to your child,

At night.

We hear you.


Hanging on to your every word,

As we squish into the corners,

Droop from lamps and bed posts.

And we follow.

Every step that you take.

We sit on the sofa with you

And see your eyes leak,

For reasons we do not understand.

We prefer the laughter we used

To hear, the morning run

In the early light.

We hardly ever can stay outside,

Yet we enjoyed our jogs,

The dew, the whispering trees,

The lazy, cold sun.

Sometimes we even

Got to go shopping,

Although we disappeared fast

Under the neon lights,

Now we are surprised by

Your choices, every time we return

Home, to the demi shade

Of the kitchen.

We know you love cheese

And dark, melty chocolate

That feels, according to you,

Like a vampire’s kiss.

We know all this and more.

At least we did.

Yet all we see is lemonade.

And cabbage, onions and carrots.


And we doubt.

We have always accepted

Our fate, the illusion we

Are supposed to be,

A dark reflection of the living,

Those deemed to be real.

The child is still real but you,

You look more and more ephemeral.

And angry and mean.

Nothing like the girl who was

Going to take the world and

Eat it with marmalade,

Whilst laughing and dancing

Ballet under the spring rains.

You are fading.

Becoming a mock of the person

You once were.

Is like the real you

Has gone away and left one

Of us, your shadows, in

Your place.

And we don’t want to play

With you anymore.

Not the short shadow

Nor the long one, nor

The tubby one, nor

The perfect fit one.

You are hollowed

And there is no being

In your eyes.

And we get scared.

When you hit her,

Scream at her,

Turn the key of her room

And walk away.

And the shadow children weep

Silently, with her.

Terrified, we are, of the

Ghost we are chained

To, of the world of ashes

You have buried yourself

And our child in.

We cannot longer be -not,

We refuse to be- with you,

Part of you.

We will brake our bounds.

We’ll fight and kick

And roar and punch

And scream and beat

And hurt and kill,

If the need be.

We shall release

Our child to the light,

And be at liberty,

Unbound, unafraid, unlimited,

Body-less shadows,

Roaming bulbs, candles, fireplaces.

Unformed, un-homed, undetected,

Yet, free.

Fully, finally, free.




Great Bear of the North


bear polar mystic

Great Bear of the North,

Keeper of the gates of Earth,

Bless with your great paws my steps

As I walk through the woods of life.

Be my shadow behind the trees

And open my senses to the beauty and the warnings

Of the vast net of Wyrd.

Teach me how to walk on the soft earth

Quietly, gently, wisely,

Oh great Bear of the North,

Show me how to find joy in the solitude,

How to walk away the expected schedules

And go into the womb of Mother Earth, to sleep,

To dream perhaps, about becoming a great

Bear in the sky.

Teach me to flow with the seasons,

Tall and low, loud and quite,

With mate, cubs or alone,

True to myself in all the changes of life.

And guide me, great Bear of Earth

And Sky, so I walk softly and wisely over the land.


Tar World

K. Barratt


I am not giving up,

Giving in, surrendering,

Yielding, letting go.

I am weathering the storm.

I will climb the mountain,

Descend the cave,

Find the oasis in the desert,

Plaster the scrapped knees,

Paste together the broken heart.

Kiss the boo-boos,

Wash away the fear, the tears,

Kick the monsters on the bum.

But I am not giving up.

I’ll breath the air

And run under the rain.

I will find the lost smile,

Fan over the dying flames,

Glue what’s falling apart

Inside my brain,

And find the light. My light.

Cowering behind the bulky fear.

This is my life, my time, my get-up-and-go.

Those are the adventures,

The failures, the triumphs,

Calling me on the

Other side of the door,

Trapping me in the tar land

Of my gloom.

I will find my rainbows.

I will paint them on canvas

If I have to.

Sew them together,

Hang them  high between tall trees,

But I will have rainbows in my life.

I will plant my seeds and let

That garden-to-be, be my legacy.

And I will embrace love. My loves,

Waiting for me to open the door.

I will hold them tight,

And kiss them and hug them,

And walk with them on

Whatever exists on the other

Side of the dark door.

For I am more, deserve more.

Faulty, scared, and weak,

Yet I am here. I breath, feel, live.

And I am not yielding, surrendering,

Giving in or given up.

Not one measly inch,

To my oppressive,

Life crushing tar world.