The first time I met Marya Stark I was living at the Temple of Isis in 2008 and she was playing sweet guitar songs in the pavilion as I happened to walk past.
Her voice was penetrating and bounced from rafter to rafter as the audience enjoyed their afternoon refreshments.
From there I’d hear her crooning through the trees at west coast festivals and small gatherings in the hills of sonoma for years.
It seemed like wherever I went travelling, if the vibe was beautiful, there was Marya serenading us!
Little did I know then that a decade later I’d be her understudy for the production of ShatterSpell and that now I’d have the honor to walk the Rose Petalled Path with her for 9 months.
I’m grateful that she’s consistently insisted I’m a good fit for the RPP course. haha. I’ve been challenged from the moment I arrived, and I love it.
Anyways, here’s some poetry from our work together so far.
It’s called ‘The Next Step’.
A glimpse into the process.
Shoutout to the Rosey Bards and Temple of the Muse!
Blessed to be on the path.
.
.
.
THE NEXT STEP
At next step
Moss logs and leaves
Growing wet and cold beneath
Glowing the softest green
Echoes of frogs slow down
As tendrils of white light
Take form into silver glittering gold
That glimmer through the night
And there before the rosey bard a
A guardian appears
They heard about the whispers
Of the women and their fears
And so a helper comes knocking
Upon the Rose bard’s door
To share a secret elixir
So she will not weep anymore?
She asks the bard with a grin
Do you only seek pleasure that’s within?
Why waste time valuing only what’s this,
When in death also is sumptious bliss
Sinking her teeth into a strawberry bite
The glowing white guardian
DIssapears with delight
Leaving only a feather, a bone, and a quill
As the poet writes,
She remembers her still
As the poet speaks,
Her voice leads them close
To the home of this guardian
Deep in the oak.
The heartwood of the tree
Holds but a drop
But gathered in a chalice
Nothing will stop
From lifting the bards
from all that they’ve spoke
Of turning the wheel
And spinning the spoke
And returning to flow
All we intend to release
Accepting our Suffering
So we may be at peace
Sun and Moon as our guide
The Rose Bard bade it so
To give to the tree
To let that shit go
