Do you feel me thinking of you
I knew
A long time ago
But I won’t tell you yet
For fear of shattering your fragile cocoon
You, my dear, are about to break into flight!
But no one can tell the caterpillar
Held tight — trapped even — in his silken nest
His body liquefying, parts moving
(Unbeknownst to him
Building something completely new)
That soon he will burst forth
Into his own vibrant dance
Communing with the wind
Into the life he was meant to live
I will be there when you emerge
And I will tell you
Then
transformation
BoundFree
I thrive in You
I come alive
Through and through you feel me and feed me
Truth’s breeze rushes like a ghost through my broken-open soul
I will never go back
I can never go back
A shattered soul is how the light gets through
Never believed it before
but now I do
Oh, I know
Life won’t be anything close to perfect
Or some fantasy of mine conjured up in the wish-making world of the ego
Begging, grasping, crying out for control always and endlessly
A defeat for the ego is a victory for the Self*
So I let my battered ego lick her wishful wounds
While the Self grows strong and conscious
Through my very own humanity and suffering
I have you and you, you also have me
Without one another we do not thrive
We just stagnate and exist
You, thrashing around in some kind of empty Glory
Me, without purpose
But together we cut through cement like feathered blades of kelly-green grass
Impossibly yet entirely
Tell me — what could be more meaningful than the transformation
Of another being?
In this moment of strength I say
The suffering is worth it
May I remember this in my weakness and may you forgive me
And accept me in All Forms
And may I do the same for You
Bound as we choose to be by this marriage of Awareness
Bound
Only as we choose to be
And I do
*C.G. Jung quote
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Becoming You
This blanket made of Nothingness and Impudence
Woven with Depression and Resistance
Created just for you
Wrapped in it at birth
Hanging like a dark film over your shoulders
Under your feet
Must have felt like Home to you
This painful quilt of failures
So many excuses
It’s not that bad
People have it worse
And some do
And who cares?
I am interested in what happened to you
Tell me of your precious, unnatural cloak
Tell me how it’s home and you never wish to leave it
Tell me how you hate it and beg someone to rip it off
Let me know the fight in you
It’s not an easy feat
To start to choose the Unknown over Home
Even when home is unbearable
Oh the burden of a certain kind of familiarity
But
You are not the thing you wear
Nor whatever you were born into
You are underneath
Pure and unbroken
I believe
If we’d never seen the sun and suddenly it appeared
We’d fear annihilation — hide deep in our Darkness
Rather than welcome the soft warmth
So do we live from Fear…
Or do we Risk when it’s hardest to Risk
Who among us is brave enough
To take the cover off
Or — with new thread —
Begin again…
A blanket made of Happiness and Mindfulness
Woven with Compassion, Love and Peacefulness
Created just for you
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Gift of The Madwoman
She is buzzing, buzzing, out-of-control
The dream-car screeches as she blasts rock n’ roll
Taking sharp turns at kill-me-please speeds
Some small, unheard voice inside of her pleads —
But the driver is sober.
Ha!
She’s just fucked in her mind —
A pissed-off Beehive –
Roiling inside.
A clueless kid prods it with a long wooden stick
As if length gave him safety.
Oh, what a cruel trick.
Angering, angering…
On the verge of attack.
This horned mass of stingers —
No protection from that.
(The mere thought of it makes the Madwoman laugh.)
Revenge bubbles imminent,
The Beehive? It cracks.
Out comes the raging, buzz-buzzing mass.
She can’t see the road now –
Blacked out and Blind.
The child drops the stick —
He’s been stung from behind.
Swarmed like a piece of ripe, bloody meat,
The child who Tricked
Now becomes Treat.
The driver, she crashes —
Is thrown to the street,
Head cracks like the beehive
Death her final defeat?
As her life filters out of her…
The child —
He breathes.
For once she is dead
The bees turn and they leave.
But the gift of the Madwoman
Burns bright and alive:
For the Ignorant Child
Has now become
Wise.
ariaphoenix 