This is the poem I hope to read tonight if I make it to an open spot. It is from the Chapter Claiming My Life which comes towards the end of my healing process. Come hear the voice that speaks the words:
ROCK I remember myself a child standing in the maelstrom that was my life. Bent, nearly broken. No foundation. No comfort. Only the fragility of one so small, unable to tether herself to safety. That child is within me now as the hurricane roars and I am blown to kingdom come, my roots that I have worked so hard to anchor to this earth, torn from their life-line. They are ripped up with me as I am thrown this way and that so far and so fast, you cannot see me as I fly past. There is no clinging on. All that held me is gone, obliterated, lost in the storm so I am nowhere — only the fleeting, bare flicker of my inner flame still seen. Then, somehow — at the words of a prompt spoken as I write with other women — I remember the round river rock smoothed by the water sunk way down in the deepest part of me. So often I forget it is there, that it is all the tether I need. I see it as my deepest self, the center of my being — its blossom, its promise. It is there for me to lean on and remind me of the strength I have inside — my own internal structure. It is the knowing of who I am, my solidity, that I trust I will gain anew, along with the knowledge that some day my roots will never be torn from the earth. I will become acquainted again with this rock I know is inside me but cannot at this moment feel. But when I can, I will collapse within its harbor, its comfort, taking it up on its offer of asylum. If I need to, I will let myself off the hook with everything else, giving me the time and space to heal through this one. When I come to know this rock once more, I will also remember I am no longer a child but a grown woman with the strength to weather any storm. And I have the power to keep my feet on the ground even if the worst comes and I am cut off from the world, alone on my island. I have the raw fierceness to not crumble but instead go out into the hurricane and raise my arms to the wind, harnessing its ferocity to fill my body and to feed my ability to grab on and claim my right to live. |
AuthorAs I write, I discover more and more who I am, and, as I do so, I share with you, in case anything I write may resonate with, help, or guide you. Archives
January 2017
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