Running From Her Presence

“Don’t turn your head. Keep looking at the bandaged place,” he said. Okay, I will try. And, these writings are my secret, my most private thoughts. And, if I am lucky, I have put enough of my soul into them and they have become part of me, like my smile or my tears. The wounded place inside me will be the knowledge of some humans not caring, not feeling. Of my offering jewels to departing thieves. The pain of abandonment. The anger of clear betrayal, of plunder. And I have no idea why, although I suspect it was because of my denial of the staggering gifts of the Goddess—her words, her music, her songs, her nurturing sense of Self. Instead, spending my whole life running from Her in hopes I wouldn’t have to look Her in the eye and admit She was Me and I was Her. Running from her presence—as Her sun rose in the mornings—thinking I could escape, little realizing most of my life that She had always been mine and I, Hers. It had always been far too embarrassing! The idea of receiving Her Power, of assuming her position of authority. Out of the question! Meanwhile, the blissful knowledge of Her sun-filled mornings and molten hot seductions bringing such peace and joy! Yet also the anxious knowledge of how I was afraid of Her and thus failing Her in quite a terrible way! The knowledge that my time could run out and I would die a coward. The song never truly sung, although I had tried and tried over and over again, hitting my head against the brick wall of distrust—a tragic realization that running away from Her, or at the very least, that I had ignored Her pleas for me to sing Her music, Her soul song In The World before it was too late, before my voice had weakened and died, before I had finally left this earth, my work unfinished. O’ the horrors of it all and my failings—with the terrible knowledge of who I really was and where I finally remember coming from. And, in the end, not only a betrayal of Self but of Her—a Beauty of unspeakable proportions. All of this bursting from my heart just like Her morning sun rising! Healing all the wounding, oh the wounding!