I wrote this poem this evening, after reading a link on Facebook. It was talking about the free spirit, the free lover, the wanderer. How this archetype carries a grey area. That this archetype can be a prison if operating from wounds. This sentiment can be applied to many things, and triggers my inner little girl in many ways. I am happy to have read this post, in the endless posts of fear and hate. Comes a nice dose of truth. Where are your actions, your connections, and expressions coming from. The heart centre, or the heart wounds? Tonight on the eve before the first full moon of the year, I ask this of myself.
"I'll beckon you in to my joyful heart, and shower you with loving delights. Enter my world, take some of my gold. Please I insist, have it all. Though I must warn you, once you take me up on my offer. I may paint you the villain, and claim you a thief. See only your shadows, they'll haunt me in sleep. Forever the martyr it seems. One day I went to meet this martyr that gives of her gold. She was sitting in rags, naked out in the cold. She couldn't have been more than 12 years old. Wearing an apron, she stood on a stone. She said are you thirsty? You look like you're cold. I replied come sweet girl, let me return you some love. The world started to rumble, and the earth began to quake. She cried, and collapsed. Her body in shakes. She whispered today is my birthday, and I just want to play...but mommy is sad, and daddy's away. I was baking some cookies to soothe her bad day. I tell her sweet girl, come into my arms. Let me hold you, and take you away from this place. Let the stones of the old finally crumble away. Come into the sun, and warm your open heart. Bask in the stars, and remember your home. I open my eyes, and gaze into the mirror. I see that little girl safe at home in my peer."
Marisha
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