the woman at nautilus teachings

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there is a woman
with long gray hair
skin sagging
she has
big, twinkling brown eyes
is covered in speckles
of blue paint and
who lives in darkness
on the far side of the cliff…
her home is small
weathered
paint peeling
roof missing shingles
in need of some repair
in so many tiny ways,
just
like
her…
her knees are weakening
her back always aches
her hair thinning
her shield
has been dropped
and every day she rises
to two wet noses
which always keep
her company
she loves their sweet faces
their knotty long hair
and the fact
that no matter what
they love her…
on a rare day
the wind whips through
her windows
when open
nearly shredding her curtains
but for the most part
she keeps the ac
cranked
and the interior
of her space cold
heat is not her friend…
she wants nothing
to penetrate
her world
or ever wants to be told
what to do
think, say, feel…
the sea
crashes against
the rocks
and each time it does
her body vibrates
with the memory
of abuse…
below the ledge
upon which her home rests
the sea churns
just as her stomach
did for so many years
when she lived
side by side with the devil…

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at night, she walks
barefoot and looks down
upon the moonlit waters
making wishes
to wash her of her sins
to be forgiven
to protect her children
to just
be
left
alone…
she is tired.
she is old.
alone.
her hands
wrinkled
her body strong
and lean…
from self discipline
and commitment
to die only
of old age…
she lives mostly
in the back room
or her tiny home
because this is where
the light radiates in
through the cracks
where she feels
the most healing
from God’s light
because of this
she struggles to leave
this sacred room…
her two dogs
sleep upon the floor
while she writes
and paints.
they follow her around
lay next to her
while she sleeps
and when she goes out
at night
they watch from the window
noses pushed up against
the glass
they wait for her
knowing
when she comes home
she will hug them
scratch them
and sometimes
she even sings
and dances with them…
but she always
gives them a cookie!

when not walking
she sits
in the tall soft grasses
which are surrounded
by wild flowers,
gazes at the
millions of tiny stars
and talks to God
telling him stories
He already knows
over and over
but each time
she feels His love
as she rocks
cradled in His hands
swaying back and forth
tethered to His love…

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she is covered in scars
she wants no one to see
for they reveal
the wounded child
she always knew she was
until one day
she just fell to the ground
and gave it all to Him
her unspoken truths
her incomplete self…
the only light
inside her home
touching her,
feeding her thirsty
parched soul
is the tiny rays
which somehow make
it through the cracks
in the middle
where the curtains touch…
here in these small moments
in the passages of time
in her aging life
she allows the warmth
of His healing balm
remembering how
she has waited
for this time
her entire life
begged God to just
let
her
be
by
herself
with her paints
canvases
and words…
they were all she knew
felt
believed,
she always knew
one day
she would be alone
living a life
in conversation with God
answering to no one person
having no cable
wifi
cell phone
or computer
she went back
to the basics
trusted old typewriter
with ribbons to print
stacks of empty paper
to type on
old sheets stapled to walls
to paint upon
and da boys
for her company…
she chose alone
this house
on the cliff
by the sea
she loves that now
she is the
crazy old art lady
in the creepy house
who rarely is seen….

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