Letters in the Dark #4

Now and then I wish there wasn’t a hint of a stain.

It would make falling in love simple,

But a piece of me is at peace with everything because that slight makes me believe this life is real.

Life is real

Life is real

Life is real.

And that’s magnificent!

Going Back

I wish I could build a time machine and visit all those hideously damaged people who have murdered and killed.

I wish I could visit them as children and give them a hug and tell them they are loved and their superpower is to love.

I don’t know if that would have made a difference but i imagine it could just as much as I imagine I could be a super hero and build time machines one day.

Excerpt “letters in the dark”

Love is sloppy messy beautiful madness.

I wish I could write a fuck You letter to everyone who painted a picture otherwise.

Why take out the angst and pain and have You fear it when that’s the part that makes it real.

And Malice isn’t always a good place.

But it’s a place.

Yet He’s numb because he still believes in fairy tales.

Pause

A sweet moment in the between times of falling in love and falling apart where action is subdued and one could hear the buzzing fly cutting the dead air humming silence.

The in Between of the inhalation and the exhalation,

That’s the moment you’ll find the treasure you seek that feels like the only thing that ever existed,

And as you exhale it will be gone but the faint memory of the possibilities will remain until you are either driven into madness,

Or surrender to the next breath.

Sagittarian Mama, Aquarian Child

Lying in bed with my 3 year old he says, “mommy because….. I love you forever.”

“You know what forever means?”

“Yeah because you’re always with me.”

“I love you forever and ever and ever.” But as I speak I think, well there’s a chance by circumstance I won’t be here forever, realistically thinking. “But Baby, what if I’m not here forever? What if maybe I am sent away one day?”

He stares into my eyes silent for some time. I stare back.

“Well then I will fly up and catch you. Yeah I will fly up and catch you and bring you back down so you will be with me forever.” He speaks with conviction.

“I love you baby Forever and ever!”

Morning After Pill

     After an eventful weekend of sound healings, Reiki, storytelling, and shedding, I woke up and locked myself in the bathroom, sitting on the “potty” to cry in solitude. Whether it was the Capricorn Moon pulling emotional memories from the stories ingrained into the fine grooves of our skin, or it was merely pure coincidence, the three days of this full moon came with others, as well as myself, sharing stories of our ancestors and our own past. Some told their stories loud, and some just shared it with their presence, but the intensity of everyone’s want for healing was thick and heavy. 

     During ceremony as my sister Arvindjeet chanted, sang, and sent out vibrations in the beautiful way she does, I walked from person to person performing reiki, hovering my hands over head, heart, arms, belly…. and in some instances feeling my heart heavy with that deep kind of hurt that makes it burn in ones threat, some with that kind of love that makes your skin tingle, some sighs, shivers, and some with a sort of softening release. The aftermath is often heavy for me and it takes a couple days for me to process everything I felt, on top of my own healing. So I found myself seeking Solace away from my kids in the bathroom with the door locked, and basically pissing from my eyes, but I began to think back to something a friend said this weekend. “People’s stories are so rich with beauty, whether it’s painful or joyful,” resonating and I couldn’t help but laugh while fully clothed on the toilet thinking about how beautiful it all is, so much so that we are capable of feeling the immensity of the pain and love in the way we do, that it brings us to places such as ones of this weekend, sprawled on the floor amongst friends, family and strangers, singing, crying tears, laughing, sharing intentions, and letting someone wave hards all over their body,

Trusting, vulnerable, open. 

     I heard the romp of 4 little feet running towards my sacred sanctuary yelling, “mom! I need to swallow a pill! I figured it out! I think I can do it! Can you give me a pill to swallow?”

My eldest must have had an epiphany of sorts and I handed him a harmless turmeric gel cap. He ran to the kitchen and I hear, “ugh!” And a splatter of liquid hitting the floor and the little one squealing with laughter. “Never mind! That was gross!” He tried to chew it. And the little one said, “happy birthday!” 

“Who’s birthday is it?”

The elder responding, “there must be a billion people in this world so it’s someone’s birthday right? Or it’s a lot of people’s birthdays today!” And he smiled at this revelation, his teeth bright yellow from the turmeric. 

Soul Dance 

Found an old free write from after Julian walkers dance tribe earlier this year. 
Soul Dance 
Dance from the soul,

The movements Wild.

Wild Woman,

Heart untethered,

Wild woman,

Dance to no beat! 

Move like fire

Ablaze from within,

Strike a match,

One flame,

One blaze!

Oh, we danced and in a moment, time stood still.

Everyone walked into church,

Shed their skin suit.

Walked into church and sign said, “leave your skin suit at the door. Remember to take it with you on your way out.”

Wild woman danced until the water spilled from our skin,

Peeling off the skin suit,

Spilled blood on the church floor 

Sacrificing oneself to be resurrected. 

Wild woman danced arms flying through the air and sweeping the dirt,

Leaped and flew and she danced to the wild man crying as he spun like the world,

All the feminine parts of his,

Sold. 

Then the music slowed down. 

I looked up. 

Everyone was frozen,

Some in another’s arms

And I walked from statue to statue and stared at the calcified suits,

A garden of statues and I gasped. 

I closed my eyes and began to move again.

Everyone moved again.

I had to leave the skin suit,

Stained upon the church floor,

Sinning in that way,

Walking out naked of my skin suit. 

#freewrite #streamofconscious #dance #soul #dancetribe #julianwalker #poem #poetry #church #yoga #love #poet

String Theory 

My name echoed from every dimension of each universe,

Ripples rewinding into one defined point as Goddess conceived me into existence whispering my name, 

“Hannah, Hannah, Hannah, Hannah…..”
I am born again and again and again from that dark open space where thoughts form words to be spoken into vibration then into being as she plucks a string again and again whispering my name as a song made of pure sound and the reverberations sliding through the tight particles of each invisible filter of worlds back into that single point of light at the center of my universe. 

“Hannah, Hannah, Hannah, Hannah…”

I did not see, but hear myself born into being,

Perpetually formed. 

The sage priestess sweeping gold dust and broken glass from the remnants of a shattered hour glass onto a dustpan while guiding me to float in between the panes of universes to experience my creation. 
And each time I hear my name called,

“Hannah, Hannah, Hannah, Hannah….”

I remember.