Gone Girl (aka “She Cray”)

woman-w-crazy-hair

Bustling, Running,

Scurrying about…

Where did your femininity go?

You toss it out the window with all the other

Unimportant things?

Like Being, Loving, Nurturing

Took hold of what matters most, eh?

Drive, Ambition

Goal-setting!

Going at such an Incredible Pace…

But you aren’t Accomplishing anything

No you aren’t Accomplishing anything

And isn’t that the point of your broken Mad-ness?

Your endless rushing?

To get to the Thing you seek?

Funny how you ain’t really gettin’ anything

Fretting, hand-wringing

Chasing your sarong in circles

Grasping nothing

That’s the kind of thing that happens

When a woman loses her sense of

Purpose

And I don’t mean goal-setting

But when she becomes identified with the Flurry of Doing

And doing

She does

But she grasps nothing

She is all splayed about

Like the papers on her desk

Or the packets that have essentials missing

Essentials missing!

Businesses can only run for so long like that

People ain’t no different

You find that out and then Spin Out

It’s an Indy 500 car crash

You try and take me with you again

But I am not driving in that race

Anymore

I tossed that Panic-Panic-Ungroundedness

Out my window…

With all the other

Unimportant things.

Advertisements

Nameless

…and in the dark corridors that twist and turn

I try

And find My Way

By alternately letting go,

Then claiming it

Discovering and rediscovering

Learning through stumbling —

Which is the right way?

Which unknown tunnel to take?

All the while the body dies

With each unsuccessful Try

What is Inside cries out from years and years

Of unending abuse:

You get no more tries!

I am defeated

For how can one go on without any more tries?

I wish to be

Who I was born to be

But that fate is ever changing

Dependent on a defeated me

Who needs more tries, more chances

Whose body says, No…

Now

I hurt you.

And I cannot blame her for the betrayal

When I have betrayed her more times than I can count

I am lost in the dark corridors

I won’t be found.

I am the Chanceless, Handless maiden.

At night

You might

Hear my cries echoing from way below ground —

Wandering, howling, haunted

Hoping one day someone else might be strong enough

To tell Our story –

To find Her own Way

Out…