(Written in February 2006)
\nWoke early & couldn\u2019t sleep again.\u00a0 Feeling bleak.\u00a0 Feeling cold.\u00a0 Feeling like there is no love anywhere in the universe.\u00a0 It\u2019s all cold and dark.\u00a0 I try to hold it gently, softly, to give it space but also reassure it of my presence.\u00a0 I wish I could feel some warmth, but I can\u2019t manufacture warmth.\u00a0 But I do feel kindness toward this scared lost part of me, who can\u2019t take in what I\u2019m offering.\u00a0 There, there, dear, there there.\u00a0 I\u2019m not going to leave you.
\nI feel like the line in my poem \u201cbleeding away in the hard dark places, among the cold faces.\u201d This is what it was like when I was a baby: no warmth no love no kindness, no softness, no tenderness.\u00a0 No guidance, no support.\u00a0 No acknowledgement of the needs of a baby for food, for comfort and reassurance.
\nI\u2019m imagining holding the baby and she\u2019s angry.\u00a0 She says \u201cGo away! I hate you! Leave me alone.\u201d\u00a0 I say \u201cNo I won\u2019t leave you alone.\u00a0 It\u2019s OK to be angry, and I won\u2019t leave you.\u201d And I have a sudden understanding of the way mother would reject comfort when I tried to give it to her.
\nI feel frozen. It feels impossible to move.\u00a0 I feel dazed and blunt \u2014 it isn\u2019t exactly shock \u2014 actually, I think it might be learned helplessness.\u00a0 I have to get up and start breakfast.\u00a0 Just do it.<\/p>\n
Blood & Stone
\n\u201cBlood welled up among the roots, on its way to the world of men, and in the dark it looked as hard as stone.\u00a0 Nothing else was red.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Rilke,\u00a0 Orpheus. Euridice. Hermes<\/p>\nI want to write a poem, and I don\u2019t know how to do it.
\nThere is an ache in my heart and I don\u2019t know how to explore it,
\ngive it form, let it unfold like a flower.
\nOr blood seeping from a volcano.
\nThere is violence here and so much pain.
\nRilke describes the underworld, blood at the roots of stones.
\nBlood and stones.<\/p>\nWhat is this pain that is so deep inside.
\nI\u2019ve bruised myself against your stony silence.
\nI am open and vulnerable in my need for love, in my childish attempts to
\nmake it better, take your pain away, do something, anything
\nthat might win from you a smile.
\nI offer you my heart\u2019s blood and you remain a stone.
\nBlind, you crush my eager efforts to show you who I am.
\nSlowly, gradually, I learn to close and harden.
\nIt was someone else you wanted.<\/p>\nMommy and Daddy, if I cut myself and wrote you in blood would you listen?<\/p>\n
Blood at the root.
\nBlood seeking a path among the stones.
\nThis is my life, bleeding away in hard dark places, among the cold faces.
\nWanting to flower and not knowing how.<\/p>\nNovember 1991<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
(Written in February 2006) Woke early & couldn\u2019t sleep again.\u00a0 Feeling bleak.\u00a0 Feeling cold.\u00a0 Feeling like there is no love anywhere in the universe.\u00a0 It\u2019s all cold and dark.\u00a0 I try to hold it gently, softly, to give it space … Continue reading