Hello fellow Earthlings,
I thought I'd try my hand at a poem today. I used to write poetry in college and even published some of my poetry, but gave it up long ago. Well, here, I go:
Walking With Your Wounds Wide Open
That place
where you touch me
makes me recoil
in fear
that you will see my wound
beneath masks
smiles are
hidden
And I'm safe
for now
perched
high above
in this
nest
over
the
city
where
no one
can
see
my wound.
Facebook
Fakebook
who
are
you
inside?
What if our wounds met?
What if we removed the masks?
What if you saw
who I really am?
Heart to heart
Hand in Hand
Don't touch
Don't breath
Don't speak
Just hold me close
in
silence.
Well, that poem just wants to be there for now. Most of my writing is stream of consciousness. I don't edit much. The last few days have been an assault to the senses, all of them beaten raw. Three days ago, I felt like a bird that had entered a building and was trapped inside frantically looking for an exit. I felt like I was banging my bruised body against glass. I so want everyone to be okay, but I am not. I'm not here to please you and I don't owe you anything. My life and my story are just as important as yours. If we could walk with hands over hearts and say, "I see you and I feel you," what a world we would have. Fighting, anger, the silent treatment, narcissism, control, assumptions, false perceptions, medication, spiritual bypass, corruption, manipulation, alcoholism, drug addiction, lying, stealing, speaking behind others backs are all there like royal cloaks covering these gaping wounds. I too have participated in this madness. What in the world are we doing? All of it made me want to flee and so I took up residence in this perch high above the city for a few days. I took off my mask and my shoes and sat here on the edge of the bed with nothing on but this wound. It's the one I've carried around since childhood. It's the one that pleases and wants everyone to feel okay. It's the one that worries that I'll say something that will upset you. It's the one that is afraid to get too close to my lover because I might let down my guard completely and be seen and fully loved for who I am. It's the wound that keeps getting reinfected because I let others trample all over it. I keep giving people the benefit of the doubt, only to get smacked down again. Did I tell you that I have a really good counselor? She has seen me since my husband left. She couldn't get through to him, but she got through to me. She sees right into my soul and holds me in that place where it hurts and sits with me there and tells me "That's where the good work is happening, let's stay there." And her heart opens wide and so does mine. Your story and your life are important, but what story do you want to live now? I am done carrying this wound around, but in order for it to heal, it needs deep love and attention. No one in the world can give me that love and care if I don't give it to myself. Two nights ago, I took a bath in the clawfoot tub. Inside I sprinkled scented Himalayan salt. Salt for the wounds is so painful, but so healing. I sat in that steaming water and let it soothe me. I let go and allowed myself to be cradled in that warmth. And when I got out, I rubbed coconut oil over my skin and took deep sips of herbal tea and breathed. And I saw that this spot was no longer raw and exposed and vulnerable. I saw that it was healing and that it was not in danger of being cut open again because it had received the proper attention and care. It had received my own deep love. And this morning, after being here alone for three days without much interaction, I walked through the city in the pouring rain through half-deserted streets and boarded up shops and I knew, with full confidence, that I will never again hide who I am. I'm not afraid anymore. I'm going to fly high. Soon I will fly from this perch, but I won't be going back to where I came from. I'm flying to where my heart sings! I'm heading back to where the eagle soars. I know what it feels like to have those piercing eyes stare straight into my soul.
 |
| The eagle that stared into my soul at Dungeness Spit |
The eagle is Scorpio's totem along with the Phoenix. I wear the sign of death and transformation. I'm not afraid to die. While a scar may still remain, it doesn't brand me for life. I'm free to choose my path. I'm free to die each day. And this story will be written and it may not be the one you thought you'd read, but it will be true and it will be good.
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