Now : You&Me
The secret behind fear, ennui and the general
malaise that borders, sometimes spills over into:
– joylessness –
cannot be healed with prozac or
Not for us.
The secret goes beyond
these tissue walls.
Beyond this breath.
The secret is that you are, in fact, not on your true home planet.
I’m quite sure our home isn’t even a planet.
This blue globe in the brackish backwater
of the Milky Way is one of uncountable places used
for karmic restoration.
Excellent mud baths for the body and the mind.
Not here to tell you how to tune your aura & get fit like Gandhi.
Not out to sell chakra knives guaranteed to cut through a can of negative vibes.
Not here to teach you the 30 day tantric orgasm.
I would do that, though, if I could.
I know, I know, we’ve never met.
We’ve passed each other on the street.
Sometimes even fearful.
We’re all very busy.
But you are human, like me.
Is there a dream you’ve had your whole life.
More than one, yeah?
Dreams so familiar and clear.
Walking through tall grasses.
Over slippery rocks.
Canopy freckles the air.
Dogs, cats, deer, raccoon. Birds. Others.
I feel them around me.
Drawings on my hands and feet.
I am protected.
I am protection.
In between our quarks and etched in the membranes of our atoms are the very first dreams.
A great storm fills the horizon.
It stretches through much of this life.
Beyond it a woman beckons me.
She is some impossible vision of me:
Fit. Strong. Smiling. Flowing silver dreadlocks.
She encourages me to embrace what is already mine.
It is kept like a library, But it is also a like a greenhouse full of plants.
Vital details lost upon waking.
Martha’s Vineyard, MA : 4yrs
Sabrina and I were 4.
I would turn her hands over and back, again and again.
Marveling at the meridian between the palm and the back of her hand.
A line where pink faded to deep chocolate.
I was missing half of my color. White skin obviously less-than.
She was Beauty.
She lived several blocks away.
Doors open, no one home.
Almost to the jar when the screen door slammed.
A dark man I didn’t know.
He had a deep voice, an odd accent.
He spoke softly at first, his tone almost friendly.
Red and brown swirling around his head.
He shut the inside door and came closer.
He smelled of sweat, piss, alcohol and shit.
(Upset about the cookies?!?)
He has me. I keep trying to get up. I have no control over my body. I am a rag doll.
His penis has white and green ooze. Musky rot.
Forces into my mouth: gag. Vomit.
It covers him, re-ignites the Rage.
Skin ripping as he shoves himself into me.
My anus stings as if it were burnt.
Kicks me in the crotch.
The screen door slams.
I cannot move.
My skin, bones and ribs ache.
Tears roll down my face but I am not crying.
A small plane passes lazily overhead.
Can’t move. Made of lead and pain.
Please help me.
I call to the plane, to the birds.
It seems as if I passed out.
Suddenly I was aware of being surrounded.
A group of golden figures, crouched over me.
Reaching into me.
Stroking my forehead, rubbing my back, my stomach.
The pain, accentuated by every pulse of blood, decreases.
I feel warmth.
They soothe my pain.
Numb the terror in my heart.
Mom says I acted perfectly normal for about ten minutes and then broke down.
She changed my clothes, washed my face and then called the police.
They came and asked questions. Didn’t examine my body. Everyone smiles and talks quietly but I can’t hear them, I barely could see them.
When I finally found myself again it was dark and I was alone in the house, still sitting on the couch wrapped in a blanket.
I lie on my back. Above, in the murk of the dark room, there is a small glowing light. The pinprick grows into a disk. The disk becomes a sun, then a face, then a hand reaching for me. I close my eyes but when I open them it is still there and has become a small glowing figure. It fills me with indescribable comfort and I fall asleep without realizing, wanting to keep my eyes on the image forever.
Predators were common on the island.