“I Do Not Want This – Get Out Of My Way!”
Her arms flailed as she struggled to cast off the societal brainwashing smothering her free will’s need for self expression, and as her feet found firm purchase, her legs took her running wild through stifling corridors to burst out suddenly onto the open streets.
Her struggle to manifest self identity was thwarted by absence of clear reflections of her individualized identity. For there were no others like her that she could see, and any evidence of their prior existence had been completely hidden or erased from history.
“How isolation keeps getting reinforced throughout my life’s timeline seems like the biggest joke upon my intelligence – placing much more pressure upon it to perform, when there should be varietal balance.”
“They told me I should be stupid,
So I hid behind their impositions:
‘A mask of many faces,’ if you will,
Searching for crumbs and traces.”
It was difficult for her to keep an eye out for the bright side of life when the darkness just kept choking and smothering.
She always wanted to advance, but sometimes she just couldn’t muster.
That he was the key?
“Those of limited learning whom do not know better would refer to such a condition as a ‘split personality complex’ – rather than recognizing that acknowledgement of one’s individualized, variable aspects is an indication of advanced self awareness.”
She kept fighting the overwhelming urges and impulses as they attempted to swamp any semblance of her remaining reason.
She marveled in her struggles at how much sway the female primordial affected when driven into a frenzy by chemical exacerbations
Meeting head-on the waves attempting to crush her stalwart resolution, she could only will her passions into bending pliantly in hopes that the prime directives would simply wash over her.
For there was no safe harbor within which to shelter as she was ravaged upon by the lashing sea.
The sensations tugged and tore at her relentlessly while she clung to her pride’s propriety.
There must have been a time…
Back when the summer-melted heat burned away scourge.
And the fruiting flowers boughed upon willowing trees – soon to be heavy-pregnant with juice-dripping peaches.
When the air was scorched clean and green grass smelled green.
I remember, down by the pond where mud from sassy duck, cootie, and swanling feet squitched between toes freed to breathe.
I remember, briefly, being wild and free.
Healthy.
Me.
The impression she picked up from the lady bug was that it was gripping for dear life to the wrong plane of existence.
Its immobility told her that it had shut down.
In fact, she was not sure at first that it was alive until after much careful effort to get it onto a thin piece of bark resulted in her accidentally flipping it onto its back where she could see its legs briefly spastically wiggle.
Parched dehydration and a sense of desolate lack of hope seemed to pronounce its finality.
The surface expanse around it reflected bright white – likely blinding its visual reorientation senses.
Over time, she somehow coaxed it to grip onto the inside of her finger, mindful that she might have caused the wee struggler some unavoidable damage, and then gently curling her finger’s charge to be held lightly within open shelter near the palm of her hand.
In her delight upon finding it along her own lone journey while compassion for it flooded through her being, the goddess spirit then transported the mortal survivor carefully to a lush oasis where it could be gifted by another chance for life.
January 16, 2023
From the quiet, damp moss lining the curve of a small river channel under a busy street corner bridge; to up onto the grass along the side of a house where two small sheep-pigs snorfle, mind calling to each other in excited child-like voices of adventure; to up into a densely leafed tree as join the feather-fluffed warmth and shrill warbling of a bird calling out for new opportunities.
Candid Corvid Productions 