Hideous Me

Hideous Me

Hideousness hesitantly attempts,

A breath through her rigid and dust filled throat.

The quiet scratching of bloodied cracked nails begins inside the cheap coffin,

Long decayed and rotted flesh claws through the heaviness of earth.

 

Wounds dripping with gangrenous ooze,

Maggots feeding on the ancient debris of torture,

Putrid crusted scabs,

A heart so fractured it is incapable of relating.

 

Precious pieces driven deep underground,

Tormented parts frozen autistic,

These aspects I have worked hard to keep locked away,

Silent screams of agony longing for my loving touch.

 

Confused and deformed me,

Dragging her limp foot along the dark streets,

Revealing what most work desperately to keep at bay,

Abandoning seduction to lure them in.

 

Women parade their glamorous and sexy selves,

Black feathered elegant creatures or even an iridescent jellyfish

Flashing her sublime azure-white light,

My blackened jagged fangs staring at them.

 

This Samhain I embrace and celebrate Death and Horror.

Warmed by the growing cultural fascination with zombies and vampires,

Who acknowledge shattered skulls none can ever reassemble.

Can you smell the nausea of putrefying flesh?

 

Amber leaves are falling with eternal grace this morning,

Tall pines dance and sway with the stormy winds.

My sky a comforting mottled moist gray,

Destruction, followed by the inevitable and expansive renewal, is well underway.

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My Mother

My Mother

My Mother

Is the birthplace of ancient peoples

The Great Womb of all Creation

Dark, hidden and eternally nurturing.

 

My Mother

Gave birth to all that is.

The ten thousand things

As Lao Tzu would say.

 

My Mother

The black soft empty velvet blanket of infinity

Or the rich blood nest women weave each month to receive their unborn

To nestle in and be nourished by.

 

My Mother

Gave birth to Jesus

Gave birth to the Light, to Buddha, Krishna, Rama, Sita and every avatar ever known,

Gave birth to the pure Christ Consciousness in us all.

 

My Mother

Comforts me

Is always there for and with me

Is me.

 

My Mother

Has been ignored for ages

Because She, like women, have been disrespected for way too long

But She is always there, She is your Mother too.

 

Nevada City, Ca

4am, a thundery Monday

 

October 15th

October 15th

I heard of my sister’s death just twelve hours before.  I believed back then that suicide did not end your pain. I had been taught that to take your own life was the most grievous of sins, a deplorable act against both God and humanity and that your despair and personal hell stayed with you on the other side. I was imagining she was still in intense emotional distress that was now worsened with guilt and remorse for the additional wreckage she just left behind for us, her friends and all who knew her from years of past involvement in recovery.

 

3am

I awake

Pitch black

Alone in the small rectangular spare bedroom of loving friends.

 

I want to crawl in their bed and be held,

But not sure that would be welcome.

 

Freaked out,

Desperate for comfort,

I phone a sweet and loyal friend.

Shocked, she struggles to absorb and empathize with my news until

I am again somewhat calm and let her go.

 

I lie on my back

In that dark room

Unable to see anything but gruesome images

Of her last moments flashing over and over again in my mind.

 

Suddenly the room fills with brilliant Light.

Gorgeous rays of yellows highlighted with pale rose,

Indescribably more subtle and vibrant than any in our world

Fill me with beauty and awe.

 

The apparition is completely absent of form

But I know

This is my sister.

 

She is thrilled,

Beyond thrilled.

I lie there stunned by how happy she is,

She is back Home.

 

Without word or thought,

She is clearly more than okay.

 

Later her message dawned on me,

“You are Light,

Remember you are Light”.

 

 

My sister died

My sister died

My sister died,

7 years ago tomorrow.

A dramatic passing,

She left the way she had always lived.

 

“So tragic”, they said over and over,

All shocked and completely horrified.

My younger sister took herself out well,

This beautiful woman wasn’t calling out for help or playing games.

 

The neighbors heard firing of a gun

As she used her artistic garden’s statues

As targets

until she was satisfied the kick of that weapon was mastered.

 

An upscale sunporch in northern Georgia,

An elegant patio chair,

Her last Marlboro,

Pools of blood and bits of brain is all she left.

 

October 14th, her beloved granddaughter’s 6th birthday.

The young child lived there with her.

My determined sister was found in her cozy blue and white fleece pajamas

when they arrived home on that gray and drizzly evening.

 

My sister died,

7 years ago tomorrow,

The shattering by her dramatic death,

Invited me to stay open, be vulnerable and become more real.

 

Maureen Frances Siegfried Moltz killed herself in northern Georgia after a four year secret relapse into opiate drug addiction after having a hysterectomy. She decided that life on codeine was easier than life without it and being a nurse was writing herself illegal prescriptions. Maureen had been clean and sober in AA for eight years before that surgery. She had returned to 12 step programs a few weeks before her demise but found withdrawal exceedingly difficult and painful. Demoralized by her inability to withdraw successfully in addition to all the personal problems that were building in her life I imagine she thought she was doing her family a favor by checking out.  Or maybe she had found a way to express her unhealed rage?  She died three months before her 50th birthday. This unique, adventurous, willful, energetic life of the party was living with her husband, son and granddaughter at the time of her death.

We hold you in our hearts and honor you today Maureen and we love you…