Bardo

Show me the broken parts. The ugly. The cracks of your being. Show me where is the mould, the dampness. Show me where you are rusty, untouched. Show me the faults you hide well from view, the ones you’ve been hiding for such a long time. Show me the shame you carry on your palms, or inside your chest. Show me your cries, hollow, show me where you lack. Tell me you are not good enough. Tell me you are a mistake. Tell me you are an unwanted circumstance. Tell me your sins, tell me about the time danced with the devil and felt pleasure, about the time you chose death over life and had it planned to never see the sun again. Tell me about your survival, your daily pact of making it through. Tell me about the hands you held, the body you wished to devour whole. Let me love your brokenness, let me love you whole, let me love. Tell me what do you feel now? What do you feel? 

What do you feel now? 

*** 

Today I welcome Winter. 

I no longer fear dissolving completely. Until nothing from what you thought I was remains. All your labels, expectations, all the stories you told yourself about who I am, who you want me to be. All the reasons you attached love to me. perhaps then you will see I am not that which you thought, or that which you were yet to think I am, I am not that which you loved. 

I am neither the angel not the promiscuous. The virgin prostitute.
 

I am not your daughter, nor your friend. I am not the name you call me by. 

And this body you so tightly cling to, nursing pleasure out of it like a hungry infant – I am not that either. I am not my pale skin that shines like the moon and inflames with your touching. 

I scream my NO like a loud screech – like a mother wolf protecting her offspring. My space, my dissolving. No thank you, I wish for a full life, I seek a full life. No thank you, no to a half life, a half love. No to untruthfulness, No to conforming.

There is a revolution happening inside me. A revolution that makes my hips move in circles, spiral unweaving. And I cannot stop. 

I cannot stop.

I cannot stop dancing.
 

This ancient pain that’s been burning my blood is now becoming anger, rage, resurfacing to swallow all that has taken me away from my Truth. 

I hear inside me the cries of my sisters, mothers, the wise Women, their cries of pain. You tried to cut me off too, just like an umbilical cord. Like you cut them into an early death of self for mothering an earth that is collapsing. 

Into this dissolving my purpose becomes clear. 

I am no longer Someone. 

I shed all the skins you forced upon me. I undress, unpick, unweave, desquamate, flake off like old skin. You cannot stop me any more. 

What relief, what relief 

draping on the ground utterly naked, unconcealed, 

sinking under earth, bare foot, bare skinned. No mask. 

being nothing and no one

a Holy Death of Being 

and the stirring of a new Emergence.