If you knew me you would brush away my weeping with a thousand gentle touches as weightless as a cooling breeze, soft as purest light, silent as a dark night’s moonbeam. If you knew me, your heart would know that you are my healing, you are my sacred self, you are the Belovéd.
8th of July 2020
Written from the inspiration of the mysterious nature of life and love. When we think, say, or write something of tenderness, who are we truly writing this for or about? Perhaps it is about ourselves? Perhaps I am the ‘Belovéd here? 🙏
I am sitting here in my pocket-sized garden in the dappled light of late afternoon sun. It is Good Friday, April 10th, 2020. I am three weeks into lockdown, due to COVID 19 running wild on the planet. There is but a little breeze, as a sleepy black cat lies deep in front of the doorway, moving only occasionally, stirred by a barking dog, a yelling crow, or the banging of dishes indoors, in the kitchen. I am strategically sat within a space where no one can spy me….. my seven years old me grins inside…. She doesn’t want to be found just now, regardless of who might want her for this or that, nicking bits out of her flesh, like hungry corvids, just to get to, and feast on the abundance of her bones.
I’m pulled out of my drifting mind by green nets of seaweed catching my thoughts, then tossing them nonchalantly into the brine and slime of weed and fish…..
Silvery shimmering strands of light seep gently through this knight’s tousled hair… Sweat upon his lips, syllables upon his tongue, a longing deep within his muscles, a knowing in his Wise & Sacred Heart
I have so many things I want to do… so many loves I want to squeeze and tussle and tumble in grass with ….. create a treehouse and dyeing my magnificent knickers to make the flag…. And the sign,’Owl’s Hoot’ outside my den….. and I, the twenty-first century Rapunzel, high up in my tree of Spring-green leaves and sticky buds, will dangle the plaited scars my life over the edge of this bower…… Soon he will come to the roots of my ancestral tree, and there …. Oh – and – there… he shall soft noises make, until the sound of life itself, the Om of time and space, resonates within the fibres of my heart.
It’s so easy to think we are ugly… I have been there, have done it, still do it, am beginning to stop it….. I empathise…. but I also say, we see more of our own imperfections (what are those anyway!?) than anyone else does. I/we can easily say how beautiful I think you/we are, yet… that is a fleeting consolation to you/us unless you/we believe it ourselves…. I know you know this. There is something about living this life where one of our many lessons is to truly embrace our humanness, with our beauty, our ugliness, our suffering and our elation. At the end of the day, you/I/we are perfect in our imperfections and WE ALL make up the majestic mural of what it is to be gloriously human. You are stunning;
Whisper the air across your lips
into the curve of my soft, chilled face.
I don’t want the detours of the ordinary life
which dance in and out of the longing heart.
The drumming, the pounding and beating
of the pulse when drama is around,
drags me away from Love…..
drags me like a raggedy cat
through the mogflap of the world……
Bring your lips to my glass
and run your tongue around the golden rim
and make it sound.
The luscious wine of eros will drag YOU back
from your detouring mind!
I move my legs, the duvet tugs at them, not wanting to let go. Even my back feels the strain, resisting the pushing through to get out of bed.
I thought it was raining,
but through the slats of the blinds, there is sun and blue above the roof. Here, I notice my wonderful life is slipping past creating smoke trails in this gentle sky….Yet, as it goes, I make lace in my mind from the overwhelm of personal pain and tribulations of the world.
The thing about lace is that it’s delicate yet strong…. Before modern life took over, when it was allowed to be of natural materials, it was made by quiet hands.
Today I am making
~ ‘Mind Lace’ ~ new ways of dealing with the natural frailties of the Human condition – and for my own.
I am grateful and glad that Life is Beautiful every second of the day and night, at least somewhere in the world 💜
We see through mists
to where we think Love bides.
or sometimes even breathing.
The fear this red and luscious longing
will go out there on the wing
and not be one with us,
or attempt the Soul to Soul
deep contact thing…
Nothing comes from forcing
as forcing creates fixing
and from fixing,
not one tear can flow,
not one heart is healed,
not a single life is saved…..
and no one,
not one person
receives our abundant beautiful Heart.
with the rhythms of time
into the mystical space
between wakefulness and sleep.
There, in another world,
suspended in the mist,
I am weightless,
a pleasing, matter-free being.
Communion with timeless space
floats the portal ever closer ….
the doorway into dreamy sleep…….
Come meet me there
for we have dancing to sing
and stories to create……
till we again segue into another earth day.
It is painfully strange,
this waiting for the day
when I shall go under yet
another knife, a sterile room
a surgeon’s steady hand…..
Pumping herbs and starving
the sad offender is a persuasion,
for, I do not need it in my life,
however much it wants to stay,
devouring my hurt body,
bit, by human bit.
They cut it out, poison it to death,
look at it, the specimen that it is –
bare and raw…..
Where oh where is the compassion
for its existence….?
The honouring of what it teaches me?
The space to work with it and change it?
Just leave me be, to chat with this
‘Dark Queen’ inside my soul……….
She is weeping you see,
Longing to be honoured
weeping to be Loved.