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.
~ ❤ ~