Shedding (a poem)

bleed me
bleed me raw
rip me
strip me wide
open my heart
scrape out the inside
starting from scratch
building a foundation
building a foundation that will last
firm footings to hold me in the worst possible storm.

after the rain, some flowers lift their heads,
asking the clouds, why me? why now? why today?
alternately cursing and praising that which
nourishes and strips away,
casting the dead leaves off so that others may grow.

I wish to be like that. 
Beauty stripped bare.
Pain stripped bare.
Skin exposed, heart exposed, mind open to infinite possibilities.

Great Mother Serpent, She whose coils enfold this very Earth in Her embrace,
Take me and shape me
If need, break me: please do not let me lose my mind, merely the pain inside.
It is rotten and sore, full of pus and gore, accumulated debris--30+ years of hurt.

Lancing draining healing flaking gently scraping the scab away at last

I must surrender
I must surrender
I must.  And so I shall.

Thank you: when my tears fall, they cleanse me. 
When the pain washes me o'er, it cleanses me.
When the sadness of what has been long forgotten is purged, it cleanses me.
When my heart has bled until it is bone-dry, it cleanses me.
When I can start over, each second of each day, always being reborn and constantly made anew, it will cleanse me.

Shed this skin. 
Take this pain.
Take this thing inside.
Take it away! I do not want it anymore.
I am tired, so very, very tired. 
I am tired of carrying around a weight that burdens me, numbs me, cripples me every second of every day.
I am tired. 

I do not wish to be tired anymore, Mother.
I do not wish to hurt anymore, any more than is necessary.  *This* is not necessary.
Please, take this pain:  I offer it to you, freely. 
It is my choice, and though I know I must be proactive, I cannot do this all alone. 

The gentlest whisper, the gentlest sigh,
"My child, you are never alone:
Even when the candle flickers, the flames die down, and the coals grow cold,
I am still there.  In the darkness, I am still there.
Sometimes even more so:
All things grow cold.  All things fade away. 
All things must die, and come to an end, before they can be reborn again.
So it is with us, with gods and humans, humans and gods.
We are alike, you and I. 
In fact, we are very much the same.  We ARE the same.
You need never look farther away for me than your own mirror.
When you see yourself, look deep into your eyes;
You will see the Goddess, and know she is inside.
Wrap my arms around you, bath in my love,
For I am yours and you are mine--as it is below, so it is above."

Thank you, Mother.
For showing me the way,
Where I can strip away all pretentions and merely, simply Be:
The doorway lies inside, and only I hold the key.

~~Me