The new moon is in pisces today. it is considered to be a perfect time to explore creativity & self-reflection.
this month's blog contains 3 poems i've written, as i come to my final days in my beloved india.
Grief
My mother dies in my arms at sunrise
The room fills with peachy golden autumn light
I am 17.
My inner landscape
a landslide
an entire lake of suffering, buried in a suffocating wave of rocks, dirt and lava.
I run down streets in the middle of the night screaming silently at the sky
my face painted gold
eyes closed
mouth wide
neck extended.
I swallow all the drugs
I have all the sex
I climb all the mountains
sucking in thin oxygen at high altitude
groaning like a wounded bear, when it is -25 degrees
I put one foot in front of the other.
Where did she go?
Where do I go?
I go, I go, I go…
then I slow...
I tie myself in knots
so that I am forced to be still
I am so deeply blindfolded
that all I see is my inner world
It is time
to be the most courageous, curious girl
to finally feel, see, hear
truth
I am 50
A clean blade
without force
will sever the ties
as layers fall away
a great softening comes
I am love.
Fear comes on Friday
I hear your horn honk outside
my cells vibrate
bodyquake
I am a pin drawn to your giant magnetic body
powerless in your power
the tempting taste of terror
too delicious.
All discernment leaves my buddhi
I know nothing
my body talks in quivers, goosebumps and sweat.
All is lost
All merges.
Unabashed
Widely curious
Deep pools staring
Southern chocolate brown
Aeons in irises
Love in your lashes
To be seen
feels like love
feels like belonging
meeting self through other
we are one
I am that.
Full moon rising in Okuti Valley 2023.
Photo credit, my soulsista, Pip hall.
Aflame
‘Suffering is a jewel’ he says
as he feeds me crushed moonstone
I swallow with addictive hope.
The incandescent light of sex, lies & unmet needs
burns in my belly
my tongue swelling with lust
or is it just too much mango pickle?
My Indian lover, my karmic flame
I welcome you
Melt my old skin
Tear my moonwhite flesh with your dark elegant fingers
What rawness & newness is revealed from such agony?
Oscillating between curiosity & rage
Trying not to let the blanket of fear suffocate this fire
inhalation exhalation
gasping moaning
bellows stoking the embers of my first bonfire
the one where I watched the full moon, rise over a quiet mountain range
alone in my witchcraft
razing my identity in orange sparks & grey flakes of ash.
Now my sweaty belly is empty
My limbs smooth & golden
My head thrown back laughing & catching rain drops in my mouth
My heart knows no bounds
It has expanded beyond my chest
I sigh
Love was here, all along.
If you feel moved by these words, then feel free to share them, comment below or connect with me privately via my contact page.
If you find yourself feeling stuck in old patterns and have a sense that there must be a way to move through the difficulties, to heal and thrive, but you also know you need some guidance, then connect with me for Yoga teaching, trauma-informed coaching or counselling.
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