Picture Album
A Clam for Maggie
Death's Midwife
Miracle Muskie
Tater Babe Trio - Episode One
Tater Babe Trio - Episode 2

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East Gate

The otherworld lies to the east, a place of mystery, veiled

in darkness. The road leading there is plain, simple,

no delusions, no illusions

a dusty path trod by many thousands

seeking wisdom.

Seeking self.

To the east lies a gate, guarded by an ancient woman,

who can pass through the doors

and back again.

With infinite wisdom, she beckons.

Those with courage approach

The crone laughs,

‘Where do you wish to go?’

The answer is always the same,

spoken shyly,

‘Beyond this place.’

She responds, 'There is no return,'

and waits, challenge thrust forth, unexpected, frightening.

'But, mother, once I find myself,

I wish to change that which I have done.'

The old woman chuckles, 'That which is, will always be,

There is no return.’

A single glance back is enough to see the road

already shimmering, distant, a faded moment

almost forgotten.

'Child,’ the old woman prompts, ‘you may camp

by the road but what will you gain?

You've passed many gates in your life,

unaware of most, ignoring the rest.'

Still, there is hesitation.

She becomes impatient, striking her staff on the ground.

'What do you choose to do?'

In the deepest part of your soul

find courage

for only then the East gate swings open.

By Ruth A. Souther - 1993



Night is the Raven, and Fear, her companion,

riding the undercurrents of wind overhead.

Unattended, I stand, watching, waiting for her,

seeking not the dawn but that part of me

which dwells in darkness. To live only for light

is to live only half of life and never know what

mysteries lie within my soul or to see myself

as I really am, and not as I wish to be.

There is the soft beating of her wings, oh joyous

sound of Night, enfold me, bring the rapture

of who I am. Let me honor both sides equally,

to become the sum total of the circle, all of me.

By Ruth A. Souther - 1994


Ancient rhythms long lost call softly to her soul,

gentle winds tug at tendrils,

swirling round, flowing down

to caress her still form.

Tempted from an ageless sleep, name once known,

beloved whispers  now beyond,

her song silenced for an eon,

face turned to dust.

Footsteps faded into patterns of the earth,

mountains, valleys, an ocean of tears,

her story waits to emerge

in a desert of time.

Each strand of hair woven by her lover’s hand,

eager to bring life,  to birth a race,

her body touched by passion

she waited for him.

Death before disgrace, he wondered how he could

betray such trust,  on his knees

before his god, who turned away,

jealous and unrelenting.

Cast away she who begat demons

replace with another,  no thought of others

pliant, yielding, soft to touch, yours alone.

Into the wild, alone and with honor intact

Lilith sleeps,

Lost but not forgotten

Waiting to be awakened.


By Ruth A. Souther - 1994


I dance along the fiery rim, red robes

billowing in the wind,  one step away

from burning rivers,  ready on my command

to spill revenge across the land.

I twirl and spin and call to those

whose torment lies within


I say, everday,  reach into my hot abyss, that steaming

fissure in the earth  where visions

come alive, altars of molten rock ignite

feed the flame with your soul

feel passion never known

dream of wild, reckless sex

hot kisses, sweat, labor with desire

find your fire.

By Ruth A. Souther - 1992


Ruth Souther, Author of the Immortal Journey series