In a dream
I found myself recently....
enclosed in a small space with the night sky out the back window.
A woman sat before me...not too old, not too young, not scary, not friendly.
She looked me directly in the eye and calmly and cooly said, "I can't wait to get my
hands on you and cut you into pieces." The image of a knife slicing into the joints of my
bones flashed before me.
A small voice inside my head whispers, “Now would be a good time to wake up.”
But instead I face my would-be tormentor and assert myself, “You are not going to harm
me, you are not going to destroy me....”
Coming briefly to consciousness, I hear, “It's OK, you just came face-to-face with your
crone self.” Oh, that's a relief, I thought as I fell back to sleep.
In days following I noted the ways my life is coming into pieces...
layer after layer is falling away...
if I'm not giving it away, it's being taken away.
All the ways I identify myself are coming undone.
Then cuts deep, one slice.
The pain of humiliation, shame, rage spilled out of this punctured abscess...
Iʼm at the end of my rope, the end of my patience, the end of my faith.
It boiled over into a meltdown.
With a frying pan, I beat the shit out of my sofa.
As loud as I could, I screamed.
I wanted to disappear or drive until I reached oblivion.
I cried so much my face hurt from the sting of salt water tears.
And she looked me directly in the eye and calmly and cooly said, “I can't wait to get my
hands on you and cut you into pieces.”
And I say, "this hurts so bad."
On the doorstep of a friend, I arrive. Empty and defenseless.
She asks, "Are you aware of your dark sorceress....she's here....waiting.....waiting for
you to bring her in. A significant source of your energy and power, she is."
How many times in my life have I lamented:
"Where is my energy....where is my desire...where is my passion??”
Is it possible I see myself as homeless and penniless,
while I remain blind to my own vault of black diamonds?
How much energy have I expended keeping her under lock and key?
Ordinary,
I'm secretly afraid to be.
But am I courageous enough to be extraordinary?
Am I willing to bring my whole self all the way here?
All the way in to flesh?
Can I allow myself to be seen?
What part of each of us is simply waiting....awaiting our recognition...our acknowledgement.....
our love....our embrace.....our acceptance......so that we may become whole?How might life be?
In a circle of candles, I sit
And call to her, if only timidly:
Come into me...infiltrate my cells,
let me feel you deep in my bones,
flow into my blood,
my blood,
my blood.
Weave yourself into every fiber of my being.
Come into me like the black plate of a color separation....that which is black
alone, yes, but when added to the other layers, brings depth and richness,
making the darks darker and the lights lighter...brings clarity and definition to shape and
form....making an image come to life, when you didn't even realize how flat and listless
it was before.
And she looked me directly in the eye and calmly and cooly said, “I can't wait to get my
hands on you and cut you into pieces.”
And I say, “Let me get the knife.”