The Shawl and the Blade (Friswida's Chant)

I am a daughter of this land I am a tree of oak with roots I am the resonance of the moon I am the arms of silver stars I am healing, I am tender care I am wise in the way of plants And in the gradients of earth. I stand as the portal of time. Some say I am magical lore I smile and say I am but a bud A leaf, a stem, a root or flower. Not spells but recipes of love. Blended with a hand and true heart. It is a study, it is learning. No written words just songs Passed from mother to daughter. I walk the hedgerows green, With my basket and my knife. Harvesting, using, drying For the time when the knock Sounds on my cottage door It may be death, birth or pain I nod and put on my old shawl And go once more and always. I am a daughter of the land. I am wise and I am woman. I am healer and friend.