Wild Heart, Sweet Marrow
My wild heart beats steady and true, underneath any experience of pain, pleasure, or anything in-between. Yes, I can feel the etchings of traumas seared like brandings on the soft tissue of my organs. Yes, some of them are still seeping, weeping, desperately heaping on calls for my attention. Calling me to take care, protect, shield, defend and mend the wounds tragically imposed by unawake, hurting souls in a outrageous attempt to heal themselves by lashing out at an innocent.
And yet, as I travel inward on my sacred breath, deeper still, into the inmost folds of my wild heart, my solid bones, my juicy marrow and the flexible neural highways of my body-mind, I feel an unending strength and infinite awareness that reminds me, “I am not these etchings. I am not these brandings. I am the body that carries them, but they are not Me. And I will not be claimed, colonized, or conquered by anyone other than the Holy Goddess who gave me life. She is my sovereign, for I am Her, as She - and She alone - is me.”
My bones, instead of being blocked-out, marked-out, hieroglyphically staked-out like property of another, will reform, re-stitch, rejuvenate with the honey-juice of my own ever-creative marrow, that sweet nectar of healing lava, whose whole purpose is to heal, mend, repair any thing that tries to harm me. Fusing with, using as a stepping stone, building with as simple piece of needed scaffolding, my marrow will ooze into those etchings, smooth them out, and reclaim me as My Own.
Deeply breathing anew, I say, “Yes, Holy Goddess. I am Your canvas.”