My Very Own Occasion


The moon did come and then did go

it waxed and waned my heart in tune

each passing month I bled on sheets with tears and red and heaving

an egg for each missing child did pass

and pain for words unspoken

each star sign did I visit vacant

tick tock the calendar walked on

dragging my hallowed chamber in tow

the night light illuminating the way to a soft place where nothing needed happening

as crows pecked with nagging delay

there was no missing in the loosing

that did not need to be lost

and one day the door ajar

I saw there a chink of sun

and day after day I did sit

and warm my toes at first like blue ice burning

then my feet, my hands, my head

inch by inch till my soul was a cinders a spark,

a flint of new buds where vacant land did lay

myself I found in wait that lunar cycle

one whole rounding of the globe

it was my ancient right to be here that called to me

as it lasted the midnight hour

and walked the shadowland barefoot sharp rocks and thorny hurts

I took nothing from the fire of the carcus that layer unbreathing

but a twig

a sprig

of the girl I was

she in a white dress held my hand

a daisy chain around her hair

as innocent as a flower girl from my wedding to another

and she told me in a whisper it was time, it was time,

to rise to my very own occasion

love was not done with me but needed me undone

so that the clay of my womb was ready for moulding

the art work of my next chapter was ready for the sculpting

the day would be dawning

for I have only just begun

– Lotus Indigo Shakti Kruse

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