I am like a woman in travail,

Only, it is to my Self that I am giving birth.

In the beginning, the pangs of despair and depression

Threatened to tear me apart.

But it is easier now, and quick,

As I surrender all that binds me to my former identity.

Because I will not survive the birth,

Nor do I want to.

Like the Phoenix that arises,

Newly and fully formed,

Ready for flight,

From the ashes of its own funeral pyre

Am I coming forth,

Letting go of who I thought I was

As I am born anew.

Will there be anything of my former self retained?

A precious little.

Really only the parts of me that have always been my Truth.

But so must I allow Her to be,

So will I keep working to bring Her forth,

For, in truth, to be other than what She is

Is a form of death for me.

So, then, will I really die giving birth?

Or will I be resurrected?

Soon, though, will I rise from my travail

To gaze upon my reflection

Then to face my Self anew.



© Jennifer Wherrett 2010 All rights reserved.


Isis and Osiris






























































© 2010 Lady of Heaven
The Lady
The Bride
Plato's Cave
December 2012
The Wanderer & the Wise Man
My Prayer to the Lady
The Girl in the Mirror
The Picture
A Wall of Water
Perception of Illusion
A Dialogue
My Reality
Fairy Tales & Fantasies
Story Books
Books of Transcendence
Gawain & Niniane
Books Beyond Paradigms
The Guardians
The Ancient Wisdom
Want and Lack
The Game Changers
Beyond Tyranny
Free Will
The Well
What is Within
The Sacred Feminine
This Reality
The Possibility of Yield
Ordinary Girl, Extraordinary Essence
Children of Light
High Priestess
The Indefinable
One Master, One Tune
The Round Temple
Death is Transcendence
Unanchored Vessels
My Dreams
The Third-dimensional Beast
The Time of Consequence
Ancient Scrolls
The Metaphysical Transition