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Kathy Martone Biography

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“Kate’s eyes grow dim as the past envelops her, pulling her into the silent black void of the desolate mother and her winged emissaries.  Rustling their feathers, the ever-vigilant ravens sink their claws into the deepest recesses of her mind as they seek control of her consciousness.”

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Book:Victorian Songlight: The Birthings of Magic & Mystery
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“As Kate laments the loss of the singularly most profound love of her life, she watches the black ravens gather in a circle around her, dragging their wings in ritualized fashion as they dance to the beat of ancient drums, pounding out the story of ageless lamentation.”

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Book:Victorian Songlight: The Birthings of Magic & Mystery
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“A large, white, winged horse stands before me, wings outspread and nostrils dilated, she writes.  He tells me that he is here to carry me into the moonlit realms of imagination, dreams, and intuition.  He uses his hooves to strike at the ground of my being, to trigger wellsprings of poetic inspiration and artistic creativity fed by memories of times long since past, memories that often creep into the dream time.  Furthermore, he says the deep unconscious – in the form of a magician’s spell – is calling to me to remember who I have been and who I am destined to be.”

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Book:Victorian Songlight: The Birthings of Magic & Mystery
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“Sharply etched against the black velvet canopy, the lady in white watches as her husband awakens, his deep orange smile lighting up the ebony darkness.  Casting her alabaster glow across the dark firmament, she blows a kiss to her beloved solar mate as she prepares for her own descent into sleep.  “Remember,” she whispers, “remember the sweet fragrance of my words.  Soft, cherishing words spoken on the currents of timelessness as one life morphs into the next.  Words of love and remembrance.”  Smiling contentedly, her light dims into the erupting color of the daytime sky.”

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Book:Victorian Songlight: The Birthings of Magic & Mystery
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“Soon, she is dreaming:  I am reading a letter addressed to me by an unknown hand:  Dear Kate.  The moon rises over the tips of the mountain peaks as we sit here in the darkness thinking of you – and remembering.  Remembering the smells of flowers long ago dried and withered away, their faint fragrances hanging in the misty air.  Remembering whispers of times gone by.  As we have done in the past, we dig deep, looking for clues to your whereabouts.  Eyes peek out at us from within the stillness of the night – eyes filled with longing and desire – curious orbs floating like lanterns in the misty void.  Looking up from the letter still within her dream, Kate finds herself face to face with two golden beacons of love-filled radiance.”

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Book:Victorian Songlight: The Birthings of Magic & Mystery
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“Shoulder to shoulder they sit quietly, gazing into the infinity of soul remembrance – an invisible net of breath and devotion generated by the lofty gesture of hundreds of trees arching their way to the sun.  “Eternity gives birth to her most recent legends here, you know,” Grandfather whispers.”

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Book:Victorian Songlight: The Birthings of Magic & Mystery
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“Devoid of all light, the room is saturated with the anguish of Kate’s despair – a deep well of stormy emotions that seems to snake its descent into the soundless black void of the dark mother.  Down here, only silence can be heard, the heartbeat of Medusa herself.  Kate’s tears have dried on her cheeks, and she lies on her back, eyes open but unfocused as her ever-inquisitive mind desperately searches for answers.  Like the tongue of some prehistoric lizard, her brain extends itself into missiles of unfolding light, emissaries embarking on a journey of epic proportions.”

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Book:Victorian Songlight: The Birthings of Magic & Mystery
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