Skip to main content

OUROBOROS by Ruth Calder Murphy


This poem comes out of a very deep place for me…

 A place of pain and darkness, but also the brightest, most “alive” place there is... and a realization that they’re the same place.

Ouroboros - the serpent-circle, who in swallowing its tail, is in constant renewal, a continuation, an ancient symbol of eternal life and renewed life and the connection that every life has with Divinity and Eternity.

For me, Ouroboros is one of the most potent and powerful symbols there is - and one that I feel, reflected in every facet of my life. 

A constant renewing, moving forward and becoming, at the same time held and freed by the circle.

My painting, “The Infinite Embrace” not only shows Ouroboros, but also the other symbol that has a special place in my heart: The Tree of Life. Sacred to many traditions, it symbolizes the connection between the material and the spiritual, Heaven and Earth and the Underworld, Life and Death and Resurrection. Again, the poem (indirectly) reflects this image: Everything is connected, everything is sacred.

And so, I dance the dance of life and death and being, constantly stripping away, constantly dying and rising again, held always in the Ouroboros Circle, connected with the Source and Spirit of all things.

Blessed Be.
~Painting 'The Infinite Embrace' by the author, Ruth Calder Murphy~

Ouroboros’ Kiss

Boldy,
step into the Ouroboros circle,
the place where life and death
smile into each other’s eyes,
where dross
is turned to gold.
Strip naked,
cold,
then,
strip again.
Flay skin from flesh
and flesh from bone,
throw all into the cauldron
and keep on dancing.
Stars bright above,
the moon another Ouroboros,
smiling strong.
Dance!
Dance the dance of dawn,
of the ancient ever-young,
of the re-born.
Look to the East,
where the new day
pours liquid gold over the horizon
and dance!
Dance to the rhythm
of the season,
to the song of the stars.
Dance to the dying
and rising,
the cessation and creation,
the continuation.
Dance!
Here, in the time between times,
in the dark-light,
not-quite night,
in the dance before dawn,
I am re-born
and I rise on the bliss
of Ouroboros’ kiss
to dance again.
~

Ruth Calder Murphy is a writer, artist, music teacher, wife and mother living in London, UK. Her life is wonderfully full of creativity and low-level chaos. She is the author of one published novel, “The Scream,” several books of poetry and one or two as-yet unpublished novels. She is passionate about celebrating the uniqueness of people, questioning the unquestionable and discovering new perspectives on old wonders. She is learning to ride the waves that come along—peaks and troughs—and is waking up to just how wonderful life really is. You can visit Ruth and view more of her art on her website here, or on her Facebook page. Her latest book is available on Amazon here, and here


~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

  This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather

IMBOLC by Caroline Mellor

The inspiration for this poem came after I watched a magical winter sunset and full moonrise from the top of Firle Beacon in the South Downs... Unusually for me, I wrote the poem quite quickly and changed it very little before publishing it – perhaps the energies were working through my pen! Imbolc is the mid-point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It’s a fire festival which I particularly love because of its associations with Brigid, the Celtic Mother Goddess of arts and crafts, clear sight, healing, inspiration and nurturance of creative talents – something which, through my writing, I am always trying to connect with.  I also love Imbolc because, with so much darkness and negativity in the world today, it is a time for hope, potential, visioning and initiation. With love and blessings as the light returns. Photography by Chanel Baran IMBOLC    by Caroline Mellor I am the dream of awakening. I am the returning of the night.  I am the tough green

WINTER SOLSTICE: A GIFT OF LOVE by Carolyn Riker

I’ve had several days now of alone time… It is unusual and a gift that I couldn’t see until I breathed it. I have been able to watch the sun’s rise through the grey of dawn and smile at the flickers of frost melting on the waving boughs of evergreen. It’s unique to follow daylight as it traverses the tempo of a cat’s soft slumbering purr. Night comes swifter and the glow of candles and the flames of fire comfort me more than the steady stream of always-doing-more. As much as I resisted, I needed this break. I had no idea how much my body was trying to tell me   slow down   until the exhaustion settled in around my joints. My eyes swam in molasses. Heaviness of I-can’t-hold-out-much-long, walked me to the throne of my nest. It’s winter’s gift of self-nurturing and love. It’s been a quiet proclamation of femininity and a need for comfort foods. Lemon crisps and cranberry, white-chocolate shortbread dipped in tea; I felt a hint of being pampered without