Wild woman dances in the trees,
Her feet caked with mud.
Hair in knots,
She twirls and yells
The songs of her ancient soul.
This is unabashed worship.
Arms flailing in their circles.
Eyes fierce with passion,
She is free in her wild dance.
She is free in her yell. Her song.
Her body reverberates,
Retelling the stories of how she
Broke in two and life slipped out of her.
She dances and twirls
And stomps wildly in the mud.
Bow and axe close by,
On her back.
Resolute and strong and sound.
Eyes fixed, despite the darkness.
She is huntress.
If you listen close, you’ll hear her
And her wild echo howl.
Her quick, determined, balanced, and solid
Feet rustle in the leaves of this moonlit frolic.
She is on the hunt,
And she knows the prey.
She knows she must surround it.
She’ll stalk it, watch it,
And then gobble it whole
Before it can get away.
This wild woman,
This huntress maid,
Can not lose her soul another day.
Grace Brindle is a leader birthed in the silent fires of the purity movement and the height of evangelical conferences and mission trips. In the Northwoods on the land of the Anishinaabe, Grace has attended, cared for, and witnessed the birthing of rich and deep stories.Never considering herself an artist but a firm believer that everyone is creative, Grace began the journey of writing a poem a day in 2021. With the mantra, “We can only go with others as far as we are willing to go ourselves,” she learned much about herself during her year of poetry. Grace attempts to resiliently hold creation in its poetic beauty at www.gracebrindle.com.