I am a goddess. So is she, she and she. I would like to be as Persephone was. Needed for all seasons. Valued and loved. Longed for in my absences. The very thought leaching warmth from you that only my return can bring back.
I think maybe I am mistaken for Hera, to be held at a distance and taken for granted. That I will endure anything for the sake of the fallacy you call love. Maybe once when I was young and foolish. Filled with a different kind of hope.
But that is not who Hera was, who Persephone was, who I am. I am as eternal as the goddesses that came before. But I am my own. There are haunting galaxies in my eyes, hard fought for love written in my bones, and a soul that is a vast flame in my body.
I shelter these things close. For very few have been able to survive even a hint of them. I treasure those that have. Will cherish them long past my youth. I wait for the one that joyously accepts all the growing parts of me.
I cannot be as Persephone or even Hera was. But I can learn from them. As I learn from others. I am a goddess. So is she, she and she.
How tired you make me.
I grow weary and old when I am supposed to be young and full of dreams.
I feel as if I have lived a hundred years, so exhausted does my soul and heart bear down on me.
But I have not even truly lived yet in this one life.
There has been no grand love or even grander adventure.
There has been no freedom from this pain and heartbreak.
Only this staid life in exchange for a paycheck I have been told is what brings happiness.
And I…I have been to scared to seek more because of the whispers that scream I’ll fail.
Because of the screams from those that failed that whisper back I am not enough.
It feels as if my soul has been bleeding out for eternity, a slow and painful death.
Until I am gasping for air out loud because I cannot hold it back.
My heart beating louder with each breath, a faint ringing in my ears over and over. Each beat the same set of words of living with hopes of peace and freedom.
I cannot go on as I have any longer. I must let go of what was and instead carve out a life that is mine in every way. I must be be young even though I am old. And old even while I am young.
How many seeds have others planted in my unwilling mind and body? Seeds of doubt, fear, pain, anger, and endless insecurities.
They grow like ivy, until it feels like I am consumed by them. Every inch covered in a deceptively beautiful but choking shroud of greenery.
But what of the others planted willingly and sometimes unknowingly? The seeds of laughter, love, safety, and small kindnesses.
Buried beneath the ivy, waiting to bloom in full vivid color. Until my mind and body is not a shroud of clinging ivy, but an ever changing garden that welcomes my soul and those I love with joyous abandon.
Until the vines are not suffocating or bleeding me dry. But breathing new life and passion into each day. Ivy will always remain in my garden, I cannot undo all that has been done or what will come.
But I will continue learning to no longer build a house from it. Rather tend the seeds in my garden that create more freedom and happiness. That lessen each breaths pressure and give way to peace and joy.
Staring into the glossy surface of the water, she lets the stillness flow through her as she kneels by the shimmering lake.
A slow inhale and even slower exhale as her body’s tension drains. Her feet and legs molding to the earth beneath her as they conform to her body. Earth and woman made for each other.
The sun shines exquisitely over her, making the volcanic veins just beneath her surface shimmer and dance. Her fingers sink into the shore at her sides as her head falls back into shadow with a piercing scream.
Birds scatter in the trees, small animals run a little faster, but the larger animals recognize their own. A predator in soft skin, with a shrill battle cry, one who is fire itself. They slink slowly away from it even as they envy it.
The water ripples outward at the sound, moved beyond measure to its depths at this creature above it. It can feel the pull at the shore line, the power in her hands, the call of her voice.
Drops of her blood meet the water as they fall from her nose and ears, but still her cry rings out. At the scent of her blood the larger animals scatter even further.
Knowing she is not only capable of immense love and kindness this predator in soft skin. But that she will set fire to the earth around her, blazing her own path, salting it after she is done.
Burning tainted bridges without hesitation and building steel in their place from her very own spine. Her cry fades away and the sound of silence reigns as the dirt on her hands mixes with the blood on her face.
She walks into the blazing sun, not caring of the eyes that watch, what is the uncaring weight of few when she is the hope and joy of many?
She travelled down a path she’d wandered many times over the years. Through the greenness of the forest, pass familiar trees with their broken branches and the new growth in its place.
Her feet brushing over soft moss and sharp-edged branches, the scent of blooming flowers nearby as she made her way to the fading light at the end of the path.
Once there her feet hit sand and she walked towards the shoreline. The water had always soothed her with its crashing waves against the cliffs on either side. A fierce caress to the jagged rocks.
It was a fanciful place, one of dreams past and present. It wove through her mind making her feel small against the oceans horizons. But as if any goal could be reached here.
They told her she should know her place wasn’t in the water, but amongst the trees. That she would never survive it.
But the ocean was much like her life, full of beautiful and happy things. It’s surface stunning, if at times unruly. Then beneath its surface when you dove into its layers, it had hidden coves and shadows within.
It was wild and untamed, never to be fully explored. Though few tried to look past its surface. She looked longingly at it as she felt the vines wrap around her feet. Whenever she got to close, they always pulled her back.
One day she thought, the water will welcome me, and I will be bound no longer to the fallacies of others.
You are not welcome here. With your hands like thorns.
With your arms like entrapping vines.
You are not welcome here.
With your mouth of poison.
With your words of despair.
You are not welcome here.
With your hands that shred.
With your arms that take.
You are not welcome here.
With your mouth of hate.
With your words of false love.
Go from this place, my body, my temple.
I will burn the memory of you to ashes when I rise from this misplaced self loathing.
Go from this place, my mind, my thoughts.
I will no longer give you the space you do not deserve, I will learn anew what joy is.
You are not welcome here in this moment or in my future.
You must go from this place and never return.
When swirling eyes of constellations met steady eyes of soil, new growth occurred in both the stars and the flowers.
When a mouth of sun alight with laughter was caught by a mouth of deep water, a brilliant display reflected back from the lovers’ connection for all to see.
When the hands of the strong moon were wrapped in the gentle hands of vines, a foundation was built and pain of scars past were lessened.
When a northern star found shelter from its many adventures and trials, and the shelter was called towards the star, a bright new home was created for both earth and stars.
When a mind of intricacies and dancing milky ways clashed with a mine of treasures, tunnels and soft places to land. A greater understanding was reached for both.
When the universe and earth came together and their horizons finally touched. It was as if a brilliant, stunning, mysterious pair of lovers that could never be unraveled began a walk towards the edge.
If she was a universe, then he was the earth.
His eyes warm and determined like the soil. Always changing, yet at the core steady and solid, waiting and watchful.
His mouth was like water, able to burn or soothe with every word and movement. Life changing like ocean waves that wrapped around his lover and rocked them even after parting.
His hands were like vines. Whip strong, weathered and calloused from his work. Showing what built him and what he would become.
His body was a shelter from every storm known to man, calling his companion back home after every wandering adventure.
His mind was a mine, filled with untold treasures and long forgotten tales, ones he revealed slowly to those who were patient enough to listen. It was endless tunnels and resting places.
He was like the earth.
Intelligent, stunning, full of mystery and care. He walked like there was always a destination. Rooted in the ground, with eyes up towards the sky.
She was a universe unto herself.
Her eyes held constellations undiscovered in swirling, always changing, yet ever the same patterns.
Her mouth held the sun and every blessed thing that could either waken her love’s soul or turn it into shards.
Her hands were like the moon, gentle yet strong, scars and lines showing the past, present and future of her life.
Her body was a northern star on the compass of a night sky. Always guiding her lover back home again to sink into her sweet embrace.
Her mind was at once a black hole where all the worlds wisdom rested in its glory only to be seen when chosen. It was the Milky Way with dancing thoughts and intricate lines.
She was a universe unto herself.
Brilliant, stunning, full of mystery and mirth.
She walked like only she knew the answer to a secret. Floating in the air, fully grounded in reality.
Falling slowly apart so you wouldn’t notice. Then all at once, like a tsunami, it rolled over me. The cracks in my foundation grew. I fell apart at the seams.
Silly that, isn’t it? How can a person fall apart at the seams? What sews them together to begin with? Is it love? Their history? Their dreams? Their regrets?
Maybe it’s everything rolled into one brilliant, blinding universe inside someone. So that when I was done falling apart, when my foundation cracked and the tsunami rolled over me.
I fractured at the seams of whatever had deigned to hold me together this long. Rising up from my feet, rolling under my skin, until the moon, stars and black holes of my universe burst through.
Settling on my skin like dust. That I slowly inhale as I pull the seams of myself back together each time. Now it twinkles on my skin, this fine shimmer against the darkness. The cracks filled with molten lava.
Silly that, isn’t it? To think of a person as if they had a universe inside of them? One made up of love, history, dreams and regrets. That spills over every time they come apart at the seams. Spilling onto each those around them. Tying us all together, piece by piece.