There were spiders in the house
And the closed windows cast white orange and yellow lights in the halls.
Like a will o the wisp in the attic
The shadows scatter blue light upon the webs above my bed.
Some people despise spiders, but they don't understand them.
Men love to stomp the feminine
Women swat them with a shoe in hand
Their own protectors-
Casting nets of stars
Yet we toss them out
Creatures of the divine feminine . . .
Yet we flush them out!
Boredom and solitude with little to console the heart
The mind begins to devise symbols
And in this bitter isolation
We come to understand
The symbols of the spider
And unwork them in our heads.