La Llorona The Brave

Written in August 2o17 

A woman wails with water,

while writhing down arroyos.

Her name is La Llorona.


Noah would have no water on which to float his ark,

without her story,

as old as his.

And the miracle of his mission

would be given no meaning

for he would be seen an unwise fool.

A builder of waste

instead of sacred space.


To some La Llorona is a wailing woman,

a story of woes.

To some a screaming maiden

scaring her foes.


To me the emboldened flood of waters,

usually damned by silent sisters in the night.

Freedom for those who solemnly refuse their cries,

the Feminine unleashed under cover of darkness

warning the world to stop undermining

raw life force,

Madre Tierra,

and the women who come from her.


La Llorona is a feared heroine

a siren

in the desert.

Persephone’s companion from the underworld.


Her bones know the art of cleansing.

She is a living limpia

residing in desert hearts.


She does not physically pull and push

arroyo runners to their death.

She is calling them into waters of transformation,

to find their own braveness

in El Rio Bravo.


After all,

we do not die definitively

as we are not born so.

Birth is simply alchemical,

a reincarnation of energy,

and La LLorona understands this.

The other side of our grief

and pain for life

is our love for it.

Only through eyes

washed with water

do we see this love purely.

She pushes us not to the death,

but to a death,

and that is why we fear her so.

Her’s is the song of letting go.


La Llorona

is a channel of tears unshed by millennia of women who didn’t have space for vulnerability.

She is a great relief,

like coyotes howling under star light

welcoming us back into our own wilds.


Some of us courageously move toward her,

seek her out even,

on our darkest nights,

sing, “show me the way.”


“Mother carry me

your child I will always be,

Mother carry me

down to the sea”


And there in the great ocean,

that La Llorona leads us to,

we swim below Noah’s Ark,

into waters of our own depths,

with nothing to save us,

but our inner treasure.


As we return to the surface

with the gold of our Souls

she dances

and laughs.

Hermosa Joven

she has become.


Before she mirrored our un-navigated darkness,

now she mirrors our infinite youth.

Ursula, La Bruja Buena ~ published by Journey of the Heart 2017


Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash

Written for my dear friend, Monica Nadira Giron I remember sharing a room with you, we were priestesses in training, Sharing dreams with you, Talking of missed family, missed mountains, missed places, This was in our Soul’s time.

I am beyond grateful for sharing spiritual schemes with you, Mapping the unseen with you, Rediscovering magical means with you in THIS Lifetime.

You are like a loving Ursula, Pisces Queen of the Sea, But instead of snatching Aerial’s song away you call it out into the open, Guardian of Mermaids come back to the Desert,

Nadirah means “prescious one”, Prescious like a pearl, The only gem that shines on its own, Illustrious in its baldness.

Giron reminds me of Gira Sol, Turning ever toward the light, Bioremediating toxins, Bringing clarity to murky waters, Girl, I see your Indigo Sight.

Monica Nadira Giron, Our third eye chola, visionary chingona, who recites the future in her witching hour flight. Bruja linda, almond eyes, heartful child – strong and wise.

You talk to animals with no regard for the befuddled humans who look at you like, “girl a freak.” Cuz you know your language is multi-versal chic, And that includes Animal Speak.

Creative genius con virgensitas, You literally bring dreams into the material, the divine into earth matter, like a Friedalita, Ages of Arabia and Mexico are channeled through your Feminine Mystique.

I love you for your ability to See Me and Others. For your child like awe, You hold the paradox like a vesica Pisces, Your beauty is bold and subtle, You are playful, yet girl don’t play. There are worlds inside that heart, those eyes, There are untold spaces where magic resides.

You drip life on the desert like a Goddess Sedna on land, Drops that shapeshift into snakes, birds, sapos, Populating our world with symbolism, understanding, belief, It is a light touch like sun on brown eyes, That you bring to these earthly ties,

There is a raw sense of Being and a clear sense of Seeing when I’m with you, Like the Earth is under me, but below that are stars and a vast naked sky, And our Souls are large and visions true, And I have faith in who I am because I know you do too.

Thank you for being my sister, sharing dreams and magical schemes late into the moonlit nights.

Published by Journey of the Heart, April 27, 2017

Turquoise Songs


She calls to us with ripples of turquoise, Washing gold into the cracks of sand so that we can witness the Earth's treasures.

I am graced with the knowing of timelessness.

For She always Is....



glistening like a woman dancing under a Full Blue Moon.

She will sing for us tonight as we gather;

She will sing for Her lineage, Her family, the walking bones of Her body to come together in Heart, in Story, as Tribe.

As I stood in Her waters, She showed me that it is my naturalness to leave a mark co-creation on this Earth...

Mother Earth, Mother Sea, Father Sun and Sky Weaving a tender bridge of Source through our lives.

At first, I feared the waters were too cold, soon to discover that She holds the sun in Her movement...catching warmth that welcomes my skin.

My heart is now blessed with this moment forever.

We belong to Each other, just as I belong to You;

And my great act of gratitude will be to water the Desert with the sanctuary of Her and follow my Soul to the Sistars that carry Her golden turquoise glow.


La Malinche and Her Sisters


I am the Daughter of La Malinche,la malinche Born of Paradox,

Colonizer and Colonized,

Each flow in the memory of my blood.

I have bled and shed blood,

And my Heart has grieved for both of these truths.

She, My Heart, is strong.

She made the choice to stand in between…She made the choice.

My skin is the rich brown of fertile soil, the bountiful dark of a clear night, the warm tone of beach sands, and light like white corn.

I may not look like my Sistars, but we all come from the Earth.

My Body is Enchanted, like the Land of New Mexico.

The land thrice colonized, thrice birthed, through blood and waters shed.

She is resilient desert, blue mountain and red rock.

Her body remembers the water She is made of.

My Sister, La Llorona does not let Her forget that She comes from water.

Her and I carry secrets of water, deep in our beings, holding nourishment and sacred wells for the thirsty.

Mi Hermana, La Llarona, reminds me of this.  She refuses to stall her tears, she gives life by shedding water.

Sometimes I hear her in the dark, and I sit in silence lending her comfort with my ears and praying into the star desert night.

And there I find mi otra Hermana – Our Lady de Guadalupe,

She hides in the night’s starry cloak,

She reminds me  that in all my contradiction, through my dry lands and my rains, I am Loved.

“Mija, eres Amor.

It is your one true nature, the maker of you, the essence released by chapparral under rain.

You are the daughter of La Malinche, of  ancient and Nuevo Mexico.

You are a bridge between worlds.

And you, my daughter with fire in your heart, are Loved."




Wrote this recently as a winter invocation (and for a Shakti related invite)...

I sip cocoa sprinkled with cinnamon and pause in the swift movement of this season,
I reach for Winter
The stillness of Winter in my soul,
The stillness of Winter in the wheel of the seasons,
And the stillness of Winter in each pause for breath that sustains my generative walk in this world.
My being softens with gratitude for my eternal access to stillness,
The root holding in place my waving branches and bristling leaves…
And I feel the restoration of the soil packed cozily around my roots…
In this pause I remember that life requires darkness to be born
And my seeds of intent embrace the quilt of night brought by the coming Solstice.
In this time of restoration She harkens us home to Her hearth,
We are called to gather once again as Sisters, as Midwives, as moths to Her flame,
Traveling from our temples to the Mothership, and carving more deeply the paths that sing of ancient Wisdom, rhythms and spices.
Come, come, be here, be with us.
Come pray, come play, come dance and vision, get dirty,
Get clear and prepare for the Year of the Apple Tree.