.
It’s a dream, her deepest yearning
She’s flying
She’s got the tiger by its tail
Fears, burning on the pyre below her
Soaring on the red-orange breath of creation
She is formless
She
Is free
.
But waking
What harms her
Is feeling that this life is a cage
That although sacred
Her beating heart, her sensuous skin
What harms her
Is this shroud, the grieving of wings
And though the feathers surround her
She locks herself in
Seeing each day
The bars of physicality
Holding her down
.
But what protects her
Is a dark tower, crumbling
Chaos ensuing
Epic forces she cannot control
Old patterns and beliefs jumping to their deaths
From within her
This intense but profound rearrangement
Alchemical fire burning everything away
Ironically destroying while at the same time guarding
This
Is what protects her
.
What will heal her
Is a sharp, shining sword
Piercing the heavens
Connecting the fears of embodiment
With the vastness of creation
Slicing and transforming all hurtful thoughtforms
Handed to her through DNA cellular transmission
A double crescent hilt
Inscribed by the ancients
Opening
Receiving
Slashing away
This is what heals her
.
And what then
Will she celebrate?
It is the holies of holies
Ancestral whispers, guiding
Form but no form
Held by the universe
A sense of completion
Of finding freedom in flesh
Solid but see-through
Dark, star-pricked skies
The flame within
The wings within
The bloody, chaotic beauty
Of this incarnation
Finding freedom
Here, in this body
Transforming over and over again
The terror and seeming restriction
She will one day celebrate this pulsing, heated being
As a temple of ever renewing creation
Beyond what she was taught to dread
.
Holding this tiger by the tail
Burning these old, tired fears, on the pyre below
In body, but flying
She rises
Letting Go 