I withdraw; a calling of the Inner to bleed deeper, into the ground – nourishment. I open myself to receive the gift of remembering.
I take shape foetus-like – as if drawing a piece of string,
my body into a spiral, a crescent; my spine is a moon of bone
Knees to heart, forehead to the root, top to bottom: a collapse into darkness.
I root in this darkness.
I brew, soften, melt – moisten; Mothering a great remembrance of my unfolding.
I drown into a sea of amniotic fluids. My mouth open and full. I can’t scream.
A familiar black as my mother is weeping; her belly contracts and expands into an ancient pain. The walls surrounding me are
red muscle and blood throbbing, pulsing
my mother holds back her tears; her pain a secret that she treasures.
Not knowing that within her the tears drop, drowning, drooping from heart into womb
it topples me.
She conceals her pain into a soft skin that surrenders to the pleasing of others;
giving, giving, giving. A heroic display of detachment, she becomes the source that feeds the starved, greedy. To her I am never enough.
Like a dark seed tainted from birth, poisonous, I believed my cracks to be a fault becoming real, as my body grew the cracks deepened.
A memory from before awakens in me a craving for the wild – with cracks, with flaws and tarnishes, with apprehension and wonder, I soften into this body with its miraculous capacity to feel so deeply. I reach for the world of the unseen, where my joy and sorrow, unbelonging, my longing are all threads weaving, heard, holding meaning.
For those that are frightened of dark things, this world is out of reach
strange.
the autumn rouses a slow descent into the dark.
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