BEGGING BOWL

Silence is deadly; mix well with loneliness, lack of affection, my insecurities & realities of aging.Then there came a miracle of transformation within myself, and I could see my strengths/worth.

You reach to touch me.

Do you feel the bubbling brook or the fluttering leaves?

In the warmth of skin, the texture of our breathing,

is there a conviction in the brief kiss of no passion?

Is there magic in this ritual, bringing life-energy into song?

My mirror warns of this Crone, who cackles in delight

at my self-assessment.

 

The gown of darkness drops from my being, in observation

of my shapes, paleolithic. I stand in testament of union,

permanently sculpted by scars of birthing.

The old clothes of my spirit-closet are outgrown. 

Diligently, reluctantly, my trembling fingers pick

at the tatters of my history, choosing bits of earthen colour,

black for the nights of sorrows and a glowing robe.

 

Perhaps, as Persephone ventured to the land of darkness,

I am reborn from the deep death sleep of earth's womb.

I will not set out my begging bowl for love or understanding,

thinking resentment through the raucous snores of indifference.

Perhaps, I should not be transparent woman, offering 

up all I am to be experienced, or not to be experienced.

Perhaps a mystery to be  ununfolded would be best. 

 

5/31/2001_ rewrite March 21, 2004

Ani Ashford

Reviews

[Shadows of Sight]

Things change, we grow, and we shrink and are reborn, with new vitality.
I liked the pondering of these words
The remind me of a great oak, that has watched over much in it's forest, but it begins to feel alone, as the forest grows up around it and hides it from view.
Just what the words made me think.
Beautiful writing! :)

[Phil Sanders]

Incredibly beautifully written .... it touched my soul .....

[Brenda Sue]

Very deep. I could feel her pain and sorrow but I think I saw a little hope at the end. Wonderfully penned. Great job.