SHE told me…

SHE told me

in HER unmistakable way.

to dance

RAGE.

so I did

reluctantly.

soon enough,

once I got through

a few portals

of hurt.

despair, misery

and worthlessness,

I guess I had paid my dues.

for…

SHE graced me with a huge round lump of clay.

I was to hold it between wide open arms,

with my feet planted

legs spread wide BY HER

belly open FOR HER

palms offered TO HER

feet rooted IN HER

till the lump was thrown on the wheel

the hands warm and coarse

shaping the shape

of my clay dance,

of HER TIGER RAGE

ripping flesh

tearing skin

drinking blood

killing

RED

The dance danced

me

HER BODY speaking mine

in tongues

HER TONGUES

and I,

relieved of my rage

serving HERS

Nothing more

Nothing less

Then SHE required.

Then when

it was over

SHE told me

in her unmistakable way,

to walk

widdershins

Around the edge of a big circle

The open empty mandala

HER WOMB

NO! SHE said to me when I wanted to dive in

and merge with her OPENNESS

NO, WOMAN,

You must walk my edge,

Hold you place,

And I obeyed.

***

AND you

yes

I am pointing an index.

YOU!

(you know who you are),

you should try it,

If you dare!

Pick the ugliest thing

you can think of,

that you are,

(or so you think),

exempt of,

dance it for HER,

then circle her WOMB

counterclockwise

with hands in humble mudra

eyes cast down.

Then and only then you can go about your business.