wild stray

i was called wolf inside you. i scrapped at your insides digging for my freedom, i wanted out so fiercely that i often hurt your feelings with my clawing and digging. 

the light of the moon began to rise through the tiny crack of your cervix. --i lost it. you dilated fast but i still tore through you, protecting my head with an arm raised above it, i marked my eye. i have no memory of which eye i marked. too quick no time to stretch i ripped you from the inside, front to back, jaggedly. 

i don't believe i meant to harm you, just a wild stray. my dad walked in just after i entered the wind world. startling the doctor i lifted my head to howl. i was born with a strong neck. you just asked them to take me into the other room. 

dad took me, he called me moon baby, said my eyes were shaped like moons. i stared. observing silently. you were too exhausted to hold me. i injured not only your body but your feelings in my fight. i did not console you after birth by cuddling or nestling. you wanted comfort, i could not. i did not do this to harm you, just a wild stray. you laid me next to you, eventually i fell asleep after drinking your milk. i whimpered in the dreams of my first sleep in the world of wind.

AFTER FORGIVENESS, WHAT ELSE IS LEFT?

i am struggling right now. in this moment. with the shape of my relationship with my mom, struggling with feeling hopelessly stuck in the inreconcilability of it all. maybe I am in denial, but I do not believe reconciliation is about forgiveness. if we have ever had to forgive someone we are in deep relationship with, we all know that there is more to reconciliation than forgiveness, but i can't seem to map out or figure out by thinking what that 'more' is in regards to my relationship with my mother. 

last night i watched Smoke Signals a movie based off of a screen play by a native writer from spokane named Sherman Alexie. at the close the film a character by the name Thomas Builds-the-Fire quoted this poem:

How do we forgive our fathers?
Maybe in a dream
Do we forgive our fathers for leaving us too often or forever when we were little?

Maybe for scaring us with unexpected rage or making us
nervous because there never seemed to be any rage there at all.

Do we forgive our fathers for marrying or not marrying our mothers?
For divorcing or not divorcing our mothers?
And shall we forgive them for their excesses of warmth or coldness?

Shall we forgive them for pushing or leaning, for shutting doors,
for speaking through walls, or never speaking, or never
being silent?

Do we forgive our fathers in our age or in theirs or in their
deaths, saying it to them or not saying it?
If we forgive our fathers, what else is left?

—Dick Lourie, "Forgiving Our Fathers"

if we forgive--when we have forgave-- and remain in the pattern of that process... what else is left? forgiveness is not about 'moving on' but 'remembering rightly' and 'working towards' transformation. Is that not what it means to repent, to kindly turn and go the other direction, not to continue doing that which one has already repented for? what else is left--what is that other direction, when we remain in relationship with those we forgive and have forgiven us? 

i had an astrology reading today by a new friend named Deeaygo, who has the prettiest of eyes. at the end of a pretty intense session for the both of us, he asked if I had any questions. i asked is there something i could work on? he chuckled and said of course you would ask that seeing how all your planets are internal except for this one that just peaks above the surface. he said, when you think of your mother i want you to work on feeling completely loved by her, because she loves you right, in her own way? as well as write, then go put it in a glass bottle and smash it or send it down a river, but work on sending all the energy somewhere external to you. i was pacing the house when he left feeling on the verge of tears, fidgeting, my mind on repeat -- i need to run. as i was running i was rounding one of the few soft dirt bends of my route and thought to myself, that is a mother fucking koan he left me with and there is no way i am going to be able to think myself into feeling completely loved by my mother. 

be it that transformation has two main modalities those being suffering and contemplation... i remain where i began. in question. though slightly calmer. with no answers. with a practice of envisioning and creating until transformation comes.

yet always impulsive, i called my mom. preparing to talk to brad or her. not completely sure of what to say. but needing to say something. name that these pattens that my mother has asked for forgiveness for need to stop. that they need to turn and kindly go another direction. what happened with rory over thanksgiving has to stop. and that i will continue to not be silent. 

but they did not answer. 

i left a voice mail.