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.
Eyes moist, no reason for tears to sit, sometimes leaking down a face which doesn’t realise they are there, let alone know why. Very strange and mysterious is the interior life which knows incalcuable depths, yet keeps those same vaults hidden and locked away from world ….. and smiling, survivor self.
I hardly dare carve these words into this stone.
The thoughts come and go like those of the monkey mind,
bouncing around as if they belong to the moon.
Yet, all I can do is step inside my private chamber
and sit as quiet as the gentle rain on the lilly pad,
just noticing how I feel, what I sense, how I am.
One minute I am cradled by bliss and sweetness,
the next, tormented as I circle myself with bloody barbed wire,
ripping the skin off my psyche, in the grip of the persecutor.
But I know you now Mara. You no longer have the power
to wreck my landscape of loving kindness to self and others.
I know you. I wave to you. I smile and I say, I love you.
Then, when I look out through my eyes into the world,
my exterior landscape has also changed and I see
that I am in fact, free ~ a wild flight bird with a wingspan
for Life and Love….. I give you thanks, my Inner Landscape.
The gentle rain kisses my skin and reminds me I am Human.