journey into her (part 1)at nautilus teachings

 

 

the journey
back into
her
had been
55 years
in the making…
the first memory
of
her
was in the
sunny, yellow kitchen
which always smelled
of home baked yummies…
she placed
the small child
upon the counter
lifted the large spoon
filled with the dark, liquid
healing medicine
as the child
stared into her
dark chocolate eyes
swallowed
smiled
and waited
patiently
for
the hug
which always followed
this morning ritual…
as the child’s feet
hit the ground
she took off running
into the family room
and was immediately
blindsided
by a shove
sending the child
quickly to the ground
as he and his brother
stood above
laughing
then quickly
ran up the
red wooden steps
to the safety of
their huge room
pretending not to hear
the child’s cries
and quickly making
themselves
appear
engrossed in
their electric cars
as they grabbed their controls
and began racing
them around the black
loop de loop tracks
just in case
she-
their mother-
stomped up the steps
to repeat her daily mantra,
‘just wait until your father get’s home…’
they knew
beyond a shadow of a doubt
by nighttime
when he strolled
in
they could either fake sleep
or just pile on two extra pair
of underpants
never feeling a thing
as his belt pelted away
one, two, three
smacks
before they could
retreat back up the steps
to their lair…
life for them was boring.
their family was poor
but the house they lived in,
although rented,
was across the street
from the coolest park
to escape to…
everyone loved the park,
even the child
for she had her own hiding places
no one could ever find her in…
the little girl
lay upon the big blue braided rug
wanting to cry to
her,
to mom,
but she knew
tattling would do no good
and may only make the next
assault
leave a bruise,
scratch
or the dreaded
wetting her pants
as they held her down
tickling her painfully
until this was
accomplished.

the journey
back into her
was necessary.
she had carried
the burden
of shame
disappointment
and filth
way to long
no matter where she looked
throughout her 55
years thus far
she never could find
the connection
she had
with
HER.

with the passing
of her mother
so many years ago, now,
she finally
was taking the walk
cutting away the chains
unlocking the gates
wiping away the
cobwebs
and peering
through the door
that God had closed
30 years ago…
over the past 11 years
she slowly let go
of fear
knowing
she had one life
one chance
no repeats allowed
she was not coming back
and even if she believed
in reincarnation,
which she did not,
she would never
be in this one life again.
the plane ticket
was bought,
the hotel and car rented
she would only have
a few precious hours
to walk
to stand
to face
that which still existed-
her
life story
her broken pieces
the old house
the big park…
sure things had changed
over the past 45 years
since she left
her first home
and moved
into the shell
of a home
with barren floors
little furniture
unfinished
unpainted
a blank canvas
the child’s parents
had found…
it was abandoned
by the man
who ran out of money
building her,
so of course
her father
saw it as a diamond
in the rough…
little did he know
this would end up being
the last place
her mother took a breath,
that the rooms would fill up
with poisonous, ugly words
hurled at her
by the child’s brothers
and he,
her father,
would forever lose
his controlling grasp
of her
for she would stand tall
in her faith
find her strength
her voice
and courage
to finally
not be the nail
to his hammer…

the journey
back into her
was lined
on one side
with purple and white
fragrant lilacs
the other side
held tiny lily of the valley
with their bells
melodically singing
‘welcome home,
baby girl…’
it wasn’t this lane
that haunted her
it was the tunneled darkness
waiting at the end
which each step forward
she must accept
release
and pop any air bubbles
surrounding her
allowing herself
to breathe in
the knowledge
this would not kill her
she was strong enough
and he
her love
had her back…
in order to reach this point
in her own life
she had to
echo that which
her mother did
and walk her own path
buoyed by her faith
releasing her words
that were buried
so deep inside
and speaking
through paintings
telling her story
to any one person
who took the time
to pause
feel
embrace
the whimsical, playful
brilliantly painted
world
she herself created
as a child…
she took a deep breath in,
grasped the hand
of the man she loved
looked up toward
the heavens
and began
by opening up
her own big brown eyes
to the truth,
her truth-
it
was
over…
now was the time
for her to
let all the little boxes
filled with pain
spread their wings
and take flight…
this big old house
of sadness and lies
now looked tiny
it could no longer hold her hostage
because it was not
part of her…
this house taught her
everything she hated,
it drilled into her
day after day
a false blueprint
of what love really was
how men should treat women
that speaking up was wrong…
yet, it really, truly
taught her
that with faith
she could conquer anything
and through faith
their is always a light
which will bring you air
a hand that will cradle you
and a heart so big
it forgave everything
and loved her unconditionally…
ultimately this journey
was into HIM
through her.

the journey into HIM
through her
began on her knees
next to her mother
and those oversized
gold painted praying hands
in the grey house
in the windowed room
with the blue braided rug
that overlooked the
huge protective park…