BAM … I am pulled from the fire
BAM … The surface of my being is shattered
BAM … I feel the meshing of known into the unknown
BAM … The non-essential falls away
BAM … The blood rushes to the surface
BAM … I scream in surprise and rage
BAM … My skin mixes with my bones
BAM … My insides reach for the sun
BAM … She molds me and tears me apart
BAM … All that I am falls into the darkness
BAM … I am yours to temper, yours to change
BAM … I surrender to the shaping
BAM … The edges give way to the core
BAM … Make of me what you will
BAM … Soak me in your waters
BAM … Heal me with your flames
BAM … Brid … I am yours.
Posted in
Submitted by katrina on Tue, 02/01/2011 - 3:55pm.

Leaves rustle as the feline moves
Gliding from step to step
The dew from the grass moistens her fur
As she is swept by the low-lying branches
Golden eyes shine over railings and past gates
Her prey hidden deep in the shadows
She pauses to preen and gaze into the moon
And in her distraction her beauty shines through
Retracing her steps through the alley and street
She finds her way back to her perch
Scanning high and low, looking far and wide
She nestles in the safety of a tree
Yawning and settling into a ball of warmth
The night finds her sleeping though lightly
Suddenly awakened by movement so slight
Otherworldly gifts surely its source
Scampering down to the ground
She pounces and captures her kill
Marching triumphantly home she is queen
And the wildness is at home in her still
©2001-2004 Katrina Hopkins/Messenger
Posted in
Submitted by katrina on Mon, 04/10/2006 - 1:02pm.
As I struggle to both reveal my voice and discover my discipline as a writer, I have turned my focus toward longer term projects. So I thought I would share evidence of my earlier skirmishes in this realm.
Remember if you are reading this on LJ, click the link to read the entire poem.
Enjoy,
Katrina

Failing to write my thoughts,
falling back on enumerations
of things seen
but not experienced
Critical consciousness
not put to paper is lost
in the currency of the now –
remembered vaguely
in the here after
To respect one's craft
is to give it focus,
attention
and time
Posted in
Submitted by katrina on Fri, 03/17/2006 - 9:20am.
This is not a dream (1/18/97)
Martin didn’t just dream, he walked
Rosa didn’t just sit, she stood
Fannie didn’t just sing, she shined
Malcolm didn’t just talk he listened
The Panthers didn’t just pose, they cooked
Medger didn’t just die, he organized
Students didn’t just study, they came
Ministers didn’t just pray, they made choices
Sisters didn’t just cry, they yelled
Brothers didn’t just march, they joined hands
Children didn’t just follow, they led
America didn’t just watch, we changed
This is not a dream
This is not a test
This is for real
This is for real
Stop dreaming - walk
Stop sitting - stand
Stop singing - shine
Stop talking - listen
Stop posing - feed
Stop dying - organize
Stop studying - come
Stop praying - choose
Stop crying - yell
Stop marching - join hands
Stop following - lead
Stop looking - change
This is not a dream,
it is for real.
(c)1997Katrina C. Hopkins
Posted in
Submitted by katrina on Tue, 01/17/2006 - 12:42pm.
Wish I could be there. Very well spoken.
Katrina,
I wish you all the blessings and power you need on your journey. Thank you for these words. It is good to remember that returning to work (and thus returning to grace) bring a chance for us all to rest and have joy.
Wishing you joy in the Work.
David
Dear Katrina- Thorn reposted your blog and happy am I. Your passion, always so immense, comes blowing out in these words. So akin to my own heart and soul that it makes me have a bittersweet smile.
The Storm is only now coming to the edges of our universe and yet it will sweep and consume all that is. In the end, our beautiful universe will be so much...more? Different? Complete? Who knows?
All I do know is my soul came here to witness and be part in this period. I cannot shrink from the work. I am here with you, fae sister!
Thought-provoking piece, Katrina. Thanks.
I don't know what to call myself either. In Pagandom, I've taken to referring to myself as a Witch at Large. In the interfaith world where I'm active, I call myself a Pagan. Sometimes I call myself an uppity woman or a Second Wave Feminist. I've never really thought to publicly identify myself by my sexuality, het woman, which is very "white bread" and old-fashioned. Not only het, but serially monogamous for the most part. It seems almost a liability these days to say you're het, but I am proudly and happily so. I tend towards intellectualism but only have a BA, which doesn't carry much weight, at least in public and professional worlds, no matter how much you've studied, trained, and can articulate, even teach.
My biological heritage is Irish, Dutch, French Huguenot, Euro-mongrel. My social heritage is Roman Catholic on one side and conservative Methodist, temperance-crusading, women's rights and education on the other, with distinct East Coast sensibilities, now mellowed by more than half a century living on the Left Coast. My maternal political heritage is conservative Republican (altho what my relatives might think of current trends in the GOP I cannot imagine, since they did have brains and they did think and they did have a social conscience), yet I am much farther left in my outlook than any elected official I know. My paternal political heritage is blue collar Democratic, except that my dad broke with his family on politics and allied with my mother's family's conservatism.
I'm a former hippie, a home-birth advocate, a home death and green burial advocate, an opponent of capital punishment and resorting to warfare to resolve humankind's differences. I support the right to conscious self-deliverance. I rejoice in any and all consensual expressions of love and eros. I'm a lover and a mom.
I have never missed voting in an election and I disrespect those who don't avail themselves of this hard-won right. (I have ancestors who fought the Brits in the American Revolution.) I support workers' rights. I recognize our interdependence on this planet, so could be called a greenie. I'm a committed environmentalist in my day-to-day life (in terms of eating locally grown food, expanding public transit, recycling, preserving open space and wildlife, opposing exploitation of natural resources [strip mining, oil-drilling, nuclear facilities, agribusiness, monocultures, clear-cutting timber, overuse of pesticides, genetic modification, etc.]) I want to make the city streets "safe for dancing," as my old friend Tony Serra said when he ran for mayor of SF on the Platypus Party ticket.
Well, you got me going there, my friend. Thought-provoking read, as I said. ;-)
xo,
Macha
Lovely azaleas!
[cough][gag][snort][sneeze]
Just lovely...
I know what you mean.
I feel you. There is too much bs- particularly when people decide that their temperament is tantamount to truthful and ignore everyone else.
I get irked by immature extroverts or closet introverts who ignore you REPEATEDLY and then pretend you're out of line for being upset by the time they can't pretend you didn't say anything anymore. I find that the same people will ignore you if you blow up right away, too, and that it's because they just don't think that honoring what you value is important to maintaining a relationship, or even worse: that you don't know what you value at all and that it's all a mind game for their pleasure or annoyance. Then they call you passive-aggressive, aggressive, moody, touchy and temperamental. I call them "not listening".