Cedar & Oil

I was in a bath of salt water and Cedar oil contemplating a certain mortal coil.

The fire in my belly pours
confusion.

What is this infusion of
suffering
biting me
riding these

freely fervent fascinations,
prestidigitations, derailing what life could be?
It turns me inside out.

Deep breath
Deep breath
Exhale

I’m listening to the Universe,
to my higher conscience sing a verse.
Divine consequence
with its wealth
to the Gods
in their veil and acceded Masters who will not tell me how.
I look to the water for answers now.

Nothing.

Dunk beneath the water with memories of movie baptismals running through me.
Bursting for air
rise out of the Epsom expectantly
gasping grasping gagging for clarity.

Nothing.

So much loneliness here.
I wait for the days I ring free of me, we’re clinging to each other
crutched under the cover of what our fathers told us to dear. When will autonomy bring to me tears of joy?

Deep breath.
Deep breath.
Exhale.

Nothing.

I notice moments of my jealous hatred
self downing as it
chased me
they follow me
from infancy
knowing this reluctancy holds me back from really jumping in.
Life now merely places I can hide in.

There is still some scent of putrid comfort swimming in the mire of my unconscious.
Tears begin to rise from tummy to heart thoughts stone me mercilessly
screaming,

“You are alone. You are unknown. You are the rage that flows rape energy from your hazy beaten, downed mind to the innocent, the dark places you abide strive to overtake your withering heart. You are holding on to the dark.”

Forgive me!
Please.
I plead to Thee
stop this energy
pummelling portraits playing out my infancy.
Please.

Tears. Release. From clenched fists to open heart I allow the Truths of my childhood, teen-hood, womanhood and back to the child in front of me here in this cedar laden elixir.

Deep breath.

And there they come.
Goddesses wondering wandering kissing my numb and broken neck.
I am in a daze ablaze with ghosts,

my Sisters

They know.

I mean no disrespect to the Men and Brothers who hold space for my chaos racing for water to put out the flames.
Hear my voice and know I sing for you in each breath. But just as I cannot know the worry of a doting father while he watches his only daughter weep in cramping pain, bleeding feverishly for for the first time,
you do not know this penetrated yin, the bruised and battered skin from heart forced to sin, of the pure, nurturing soul filling with hormones more and more everyday. You can not know of the full moon in my veins.
We hold the space meant for The Beloved for The Great Mother for The Goddess you have not fully discovered. Even as we’re crushed and quartered beneath Hades favourite porn.
We rising again and again in the storm, in the battlefield, on the funeral pyre. We move on with a deep smile as we were designed
re birthing
re newing
and falling then rising and falling again.

What happens when the phoenix forgets her power, growing hopeless in the darkest hours lost in center of the earth?

Sisters?

First one touches my deprecated shoulders then another holds my head up high moving forward.
Turning my chin skyward
then released to look me in the eye
to say, You can.
With or without a man.
Near or far from your clan.
Stages of billions or of one.
You are not yet done woman.

Deep breath.

Yet a third braces into the scalding water with lavender and silk in tow.
This elixir from her very own grieving stone,
she whispers,
I know.
I know.

Mothers weep beside this positing pedestal paying remembrance to their lost sons buried in sex hate manipulated by the very beast they created. And then they pay for.

Three more fly above blowing a cool breeze from my ancestors calling to me, Stand. Divine One. Exaltation Being. Stand up!

Deep breath.

Your Men need you to be strong and sharpen your hatches as they march through murky quick sand towards mirages of a front line they do not understand. No one taught them how to me a Man.
They’re every prayer a Spoke Word they’re not too late to change our fate.

Exhale.

And still more reflections of the Goddess no less powerful for their small sizes, arises, arriving dancing round me they fly.
Hear tambourines trumpeting triumphant intentions, , guitars and drums play the procession while ribbons light the road to our redemption. At least here we can believe in our ascension.

And though I am tiny, here, alone in this bathtub throne  the bathroom fan the only
music to dance to
My tears finally allowed to safely flow
I only know one thing for certain.

(Deep breath
Deep breath
Exhale)

I am still here.

Mira Black
Dec 12th 2017