'New Hope'- Barry Mack 48x72
Blood, bright red and shiny.
Today the pain is much less, she thought.
Better this time not to be hunched over,
waiting for something to move.
Better than a time long ago,
when she felt moved, and there was no trace.
Nothing but a faint memory, and a whiff of anaesthetic.
An ultra-sound picture,
taken by a well-meaning nurse and mother.
"Don't you want to see?" she asked, puzzled.
There was no pain then. Only numbness.
She grieves a past that never was,
and weeps for a future that will never be.
She thought she'd made peace with herself.
Until the long view came into sharper focus;
the lost highway of baby clothes and little girl dresses,
dimmed with the passing years.
And yet her womb is producing something.
How many are they?
How many growing in there,
feeding on shame, and self-esteem...
robbing creativity?
Something read, and remembered from Buddhist query:
If every living thing is an entity of the Mystic Law,
can she chant that these small,
dark growths evolve and support life,
instead of draining it?
Tiny bloodsuckers, drawing energy into the vortex.
What can ever come of that?
Blood.
Bright red and shiny.
Sacrificed to the earth.
Surrendered in love.
Each small thing released, and named.
One for each love she's ever had.
Some never embraced or admitted to.
So many tears shed, a deepening stillness spread within,
and all around.
Perhaps now her womb can be whole, and healed.
6 comments:
Your last piece you wrote on your blog.... That struck a few cords with me. As the writer to what were you referring to? Your fibroids? a child that you thought you were going to have? a loss? My experiences with the womb are very vast and deep, that piece hit me hard.
Thank you for your words.
Yes. To everything, and more. It was written from my gut, and I had to put words to what is happening for me. It's a story about a woman who held grief at never bearing a child, and for the child lost to her. About uterine fibroids and how she's come to embrace and release them.
It's about the ritual of returning blood to the earth, the quest for wholeness and the healing of my own divine feminine. It also signifies a return of my own creativity, since I've written poetry and short stories few and far between for many years.
While being deeply personal, I'm realizing that part of this lesson, this learning and my current astrological transits are about the wounded healer. And that aspect (Chiron) is being activated for the 3rd and final time. Transiting Saturn is conjunct my natal Pluto (the deep shadow) square my ascendant (the outer self or mask) and in direct opposition to my natal Saturn/Chiron conjunction. Both of these planets are in the 10th house (representing both father/male authority/structure) and Saturn is transiting my 4th house (mother/home/feminine/womb/flow). Being that the 10th house also represents public processes, I think it is appropriate to share this journey of the healing of my wounded feminine self (my uterus) trusting that, like you, it will touch someone deeply and perhaps help them to embrace their own inner process.
I believe that as women, our ability to share our experiences in this manner is what truly makes us unique beings. If one woman is able to embrace and nurture herself a little more deeply because of this (which I am) then that alone creates the tiniest of shifts in the vast ocean of consciousness. Right now, I see this ocean as the Great Mother of creation/life. And I'm profoundly grateful for that.
Much love to you, and your womb.
A friend (how horribly we find them through tragically shared experience sometimes) expressed her breast milk for her stillborn baby and ritually "fed" her plants and the earth with it. Ritual experience is an amazing thing, and as women, returning our fluids to the earth--our blood, our milk, our tears--is one of the most powerful, I think...
I recognized and felt the courage in your words, sister, without even seeing the baby picture.
And I agree. Ritual seems to me to be a natural way to express our love and deep grief.
Shared grief is a strong, binding chord. My heart is yours in deepest sympathy.
With Love...
hi its been so long, im sorry we never kept intouch remember the green lady in loch inver wonderful times :)
That trip was like a birthing for me. I just found some old pics, maps and cards about haggis and pigs dressed in tartan plaid. Very fond memories, huge fun! If you want to catch up, feel free to contact me. I'd love to hear how you're doing.
With Love,
A.
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