between you and me and no one else: birthing bed confession

Well! Much has transpired since my last post, including:

(1) a healing in which I believe every remaining vestige of trauma from a 2003 car crash (no accident!) was backed out of my physical, emotional, and etheric bodies;

(2) a birthday that seemed literally to rewind the tape of my life to a period in which I felt free to create, express, manifest, give and receive love, and exist without massive interference and obstruction at every turn; and

(3) the passing of my mother, who had spent the past six years “walking in two worlds” (Alzheimer’s/dementia). She and I were doubly blessed, as she transitioned easily and without suffering, and I was gifted with the exquisite experience of
being present for her final eleven hours.

This poem was written after the aforementioned (1) and (2)– and, in retrospect, I can see how those events prepared me for the initiation of event (3) and
helped to move me decisively into “The New.”


To you alone this confession I make,
I did not come here to be entertained into slack-jawed obscurity –
Even in the midst of a talkative crowd I seek to sink my line deeply into divine waters,
The jib-jabbery of distraction bludgeons the sanctity of a poised silence
Yet more times than I care to count, I have wielded the weapon well.

Between you and me and no one else,
I have time and again led myself into a corner of self-created separatism,
Predisposed by an ardent architecture of spirit that renders instrumentation askew –
But I grant you willingly that I knew no other way!
And this I will not deny.

Of my own volition I allow,
I have walked the plank with my heart jitterbugging in the palm of my hand,
Neural ribbons clogged and jammed with the rush-hour crawl of chemistry –
More than once I raced past Persephone’s daughters arrayed in primrose yellow,
Drawn without regret to the siren song that tempts all but the greatest among us.

I will not feign a surrogate truth,
The weight of alienation has pinned my wings in the loam of this gravity-rich orb,
Pinched me into a frantic gasping to kiss without end the breath of the sacred
And now, with but a reed-thin parting of my lips,
A long, sinewy outbreath leads into the crystalline pool of the One.

10 comments

  1. Janet

    You have blown me away with this Rachel – the last portion of which such depth and quietude and solemnity that it stands as a witness to the events of the last few days. Thank you, and thank you again. You are in my heart.

    Like

  2. All that in one silent breath of time? Bravo, you strengthened and deeper woman.

    I am sorry you will not again hear your mother’s voice with your name freshly rushing out in greeting.

    Like

  3. Leslie

    OH! Dearest Rachel…You made it through the other side to where you were. Not having arrived, as you never left, you mother rests in (your) Love that never budged. Thank you for your sublime writing and Truth revealing.
    xoxo

    Like

  4. Thank you Rachel, you are so inspiring! So glad you take time to be with yourself and away from the talkative crowd, just where I spend most of my time too, listening in the quiet for the One. So thrilled your journey is setting you free, and as you free yourself you free us too. Many blessings, dear heart.

    Like

    • dadirri7, precious one,

      Such sweet and uplifting words! Thank you.

      I live in a very tiny, remote town, and people have said to me, “How can you live out there? There’s nothing there!” To which I always reply, “Yes, exactly!”

      May we all listen to the silence, and may we all be free…

      Like

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