My Journey

I dig deep inside but find only darkness
Stone walls shut me out
Starving figures so withered to be sexless
Cauldrons oozing rotting flesh and death
And cavemen tending the process
Spiral clouds teeming with memories
once too horrible to mention
The staircase leads still downward
Do I want to go? Where will it lead?
The devil seems rampant now
Or does he just carry out the orders
of the only mother I have known?

In my dream I let the crone lead me
through long halls to the triangle door
She desperately beckoned me to follow
But I was afraid and stood back
Maybe I awoke before the dream ended
and did follow her through the bright door into the light
But the passageway was short, the light died,
and the winding stairs descended

My eyes were closed, I didn’t know,
but I am descending still
I saw the feast, remember the underworld,
the birdhouse, the forest where light still penetrated
the diet pills, the crippled healer,
the children playing with water
the little girl taken away
by the stern overweight women
the cluttered house, the labyrinthine passages,
death, shattered glass,
the coming flood,
body fluids filling my mouth and covering my face
the woman who was my mother weak and whining,
the bells chiming
and always the crying, starving children
and most of all the men or man who hates me
with such passion to want me dead
and out of this life
I saw the words of hate two nights ago
written by a man, hateful,
vicious and masculine
Words to torture and destroy me
but the words were mine, he was me
the little girl taken from me was me
I starved my inner child
because I was starving
I ate but never filled my body
The small me cried but I didn’t hear
The hate came not from my lips
but from my fingers
and I targeted it at myself
My inner child cried to be free but I never heard
I was a spiritual cripple
I closed my eyes to an all merciful God
I closed my mind to the merciful mother
My clothes woven of hate made me unworthy
My world was cluttered with every despicable act
every humiliation, fear, despair and hate
scattered by the negative mother,
was she witch or me?
Lest I dare forget,
she reminded me at every turn.

I am rational tonight, I am strong
but tomorrow who will control?
The stains of hate are old,
are they too old to clean?
My shadows are not here now to torment me,
can it be that I am me?
The other night amidst their power and hate,
I was lost, I was not real
I could not protect myself so I hid,
They controlled my hands and mind
The witch and the devil,
the mother and the animus, she and he
Their power too hideous to describe
I am alone now, but not lonely, alone is peace
to think and gather strength against the enemy
But how can I fight the enemy who is me?
I have no weapons
Can my spirit triumph over hate?

4/15/98

The Crone

I think still of the old lady in my dream,
Such a vivid picture she did make,
She wanted me and no one else,
To follow behind her lead.

I wasn't happy with my own world,
With its maze of gray old halls,
And the demands of an ineffective mother,
So I hung back and watched from the door.

I watched her go as she beckoned to me.
Her world contrasted with her gray clothes,
I could see bright lights from beyond her,
Reflecting off the yellow walls.

Her world was very tempting,
But the hall grew smaller and smaller,
Like Alice I knew I would never fit,
I might get in, but never out.

So I stood at the orange triangle door,
Frightened, confused, and tempted,
Someone wanted me just as I am,
I failed her to save myself.
11/13/97

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