Pamela Leavey

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Tag: Devotion

In The Secret Garden

My mother had the the most amazing gardens when I was a child. She loved to be outdoors gardening and her labor of love always showed in our yard. That love for gardening is something that was shared among other members of her family and passed down in generations.

The Secret Garden is nestled in Newburyport and it belongs to my cousin who spends each day working in her garden paradise, tending to her perrenials with love and devotion.

When I have the time to visit with my cousin in the Secret Garden, I am transported to a place of peace and always feel a sense of being home. As the love of gardening has been passed down through generations of women in my family, so to have perrenials been passed along and kept blooming for generations. The Secret Garden has iris and peonies that belonged to both my mother and my aunt, even my grandmother.

My mother would tell me as a child that nothing was more important than tending the earth. She knew the connection of our need to treat the Mother [Earth] with love and respect…

(Photo: c. Pamela J. Leavey)

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Walk To The Beat

I walk to the beat
Of The Goddess’s drum,
I sing her ancient song;
I call out her name
But, she already knows mine.
I am her sister,
I am her daughter,
She is crone,
I am apprentice.
I feel her heartbeat
In every beat my heart takes;
She speaks to me in my sleep,
She speaks to me when I am awake.
I follow closely in her footsteps
I learn my lessons well;
I have claimed myself as part of her
And she as part of me. 
She listens quietly
When I cry out in pain;
She wisely heals my ills.
She gives me hope 
By her very purpose
Takes me back where I come from.
I walk to the beat
Of the Goddess’s drum,
I sing her ancient song.
She fills me with her many gifts;
I bless her with my love,
Devotion pure, divine and boundless
For she there is no less.
I am her sister,
I am her daughter,
She is crone,
I am apprentice.
I claim her wisdom 
As part of mine,
I share her with my sisters;
For she exists in every woman
Who hears the call of their name;
From hidden place
Thought long lost,
She rises like the sun.
It is the Goddess
In every woman,
Who walks to the beat
Of her drum.

c. Pamela J. Leavey 1997

(Inspired by: When the Drummers Were Women, by, Layne Redmond)

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