“I don’t have any thing
I am not any thing but a
A cry disappearing in the wind”
They found Her lying on Her side heaving with exhaustion. Her white fur steaming with heat
Her golden eyes as still as a pierced knife caught in it’s victim. She was a wolf, large and white.
Not a regular wolf. She was enormous, a huge mound of white fire pulsing and flaming beneath the dark forest of trees. She’d made it here finally to die, the war out there was too great even for Her. She was a lone fighter, nobody by Her side. Is that what they thought?
They were hunters both carrying guns. It was a full moon night but still in the twilight, the Moon had not yet reached Her full splendor. The sky was so empty, the stars hiding and watching behind the blanket of a silver hum. The sky was so empty as if He didn’t matter at all.
I wrote you a song
to sing to the world
nobody knew me
but you were a star
so I hid behind
your shining face
while you sang
what I wanted to say
and nobody ever knew me
and nobody ever thought
that I, the sky
might be singing too
But the wolf seemed to know and She laid there
waiting to go. To return to Him finally as the howler in His blue heart. She might cover the world this way, the world that hurt Her and never understood Her way. The howling we hear always came from there…and never from the throat of mere animals. They tear from their guts
our hot veins dripping- It’s always been that way.
Whoever sees into the sky knows Their love.
They were hunters, both dressed as a hunter would. They had paid for these clothes and they weren’t cheap. She only had fur. White and dirty, stained with old blood.
They found Her and it wasn’t like they could just start shooting. She was huge and shocking and
She was clearly still ALIVE. One hunter (there were two) knelt near Her head and one knelt near Her middle and put his hand on Her to feel Her breathing. She was heaving and blurry with night. Her eyes were gold and fixed on the moon slowly entering the darkening sky above Her.
She loved Him more than they could see.
The hunter in the middle of Her knew better than the one at Her head. The hunter at Her head had his shotgun out just waiting for the other hunter to signal when to shoot. He clearly felt He was being merciful to offer this release. The other hunter though, scared yet enchanted, started listening closer to Her heart beat and Her breath. He put up his hand
signaling the head hunter to stop and put his gun way. He turned his head just as Her eyes met his, he was transfixed by Her gaze in a way that made his world, as he knew it, disappear around him. It was only Him and Her now. Was it the sky? Was it the earth? Was it the moon holding him captive in Her? His mind was empty and the golden light of Her eyes created a sound in his head, a different language than his, but he understood, and he heard Her and he knew what he needed to do.
Deep in the forest
beneath warm misty rain
I heard my heart singing again
Her song was a siren
calling me home
only one place leads to here
Her song woke the birds
and the owls of the night
who circled around me
and in the myth of the coven
I spread open my wings
and watched Her fly away
brewing we sat,
me and the birds
calling and singing for Her
And when the morning came
the ground was still wet
the fire still burning
and Her ashes filled the sky
(Deep in the womb. The spark then the fire. The burning. The flesh of the witch. Flesh turned to ash. Ash rose
to God. From the song in the smoke
then the bird)
He thought “It can’t be this way she will never
die by our mercy. We can’t kill Her. Nobody can kill Her. She lives in His sky as the fire of night and she walks upon this earth as His sword of Spirit.”
The Moon was now above us. The Owls like witches watched and casting their spell upon us we became bewitched by Her, filled with Her song….and they made us
think that we finally remembered. That we knew who we were. Not the white wolf. She already knew. It was the two hunters who thought they had found Her. Who thought they were helping Her. Who thought She might be done.
The cauldron hisses and spits. The Snake moves through everything and it doesn’t matter how She does it. The catalyst or the shapeshifter.
We put our shoe upon Her, don’t forget that.
(Continued….when we awoke- me and my little bird)
we were covered in ashes and blood looking up at Him. I said, ” the Angel fell. Do you know him?” Deep in the Triangle now…the pieces of cloud kept us covered from seeing who He really was. My little bird, she kept changing…and I didn’t know who I was. Aurora the Oracle who sings in the water flowed down the river in a stream of gold and began to sing near me
Here is what I heard
“as vast as the sea
and as high as the sky
I let the fire burn
this heavenly weapon
as rare as my name
and upon the land
even in the dimmest of shrines
the laughter was heard
by the candles being fed
It’s all around us now
the sound of the end
up in flames and
sending smoke signals.
We wave our flags high
white peace in the ashes
feathers and fishes
and not as before
the drum thumps beneath
the lumps left of earth
pounding old souls
back in places
(they left their staffs behind
they bit their hearts quiet
they stood to the side
but it’s all burning now
and it doesn’t matter
because I let it happen”
I didn’t have a pen so I couldn’t write this down and I’m not sure if I’m remembering everything. There’s something else we need to know…before I could ask Her She slithered away, a gold stream shining in the water. She moves quickly and expects us to understand.
The Waxing Ones know we learn in Their world.
But when in this world we are expected to remember.
“Where am I?” I said to the hunter….
Homelessness. I don’t really feel at home.
There’s no way for me to come to terms with where I’ve been put. It’s where apparently I wanted to come. We can’t remember why but at the moment we can’t imagine what we were thinking. We had high hopes. We had high opinions of our ability. We had courage. We had a fire burning. So we came and most of us got stuck. Embedded in the mire of 3D reality. You can’t be a coward you know.
We must remember. That’s what they say the first step is- remembering. You aren’t at home.
You are on a mission. It’s feels all wrong- the idea that you should adapt soon and settle down and relate appropriately. That you should contribute and thrive inside the machine with the others.
They look at you- they know you just aren’t right.
You feel the same way. Your heart doesn’t beat correctly. It’s out of time. You can’t just sleep. Or listen. You’re hearing too much. Everything aches and burns. Prayers don’t get answered. There is no response. You have been abandoned
and you still aren’t sure what you did that was so
wrong, so heinous to be sentenced to this torture in a hell of insanely ok Others. Yes they are all ok. Can’t you see. You’ve got the problem.
You’re weird. You stutter. You cry. You don’t like looking into everyone’s eyes. The sound is like tin. I can’t find a home here. It’s inside me I know I’ve heard it before and God holds my hand and carries me and only His footprints are seen.
Plastic everywhere. Everything plastic…..
(you can still say we’re all One. That doesn’t bother me)
And when She told me that day and I stepped over that pile of Jesus- (where he was buried) I knew there was no going back until after The Harvest. So I am going to find the Fallen One and be brave…..
I remember everything. My Mother doesn’t know. She thought we were too young to remember -but I REMEMBER. It’s the most recent distortions that must be released first.
(this is what They say)
While a child still at home and for sake of survival I suppressed it all. Then when I left at about 18- I started remembering everything.
It would just come up like visions and I would think “how could I have forgotten that?” I remember back as far as infancy. One time I thought I needed to say something to Her, it was a pretty bad recall after all. So one day (I was about 19 and was with Her in the car driving) I said,
“Mom do you remember that time I was 9 or 10 and you got mad at me and started beating me and I was running from you and you knocked me down in the hallway and cut off all my hair?”
She started screaming wildly “you liar!!!”
She then slapped my face and kicked me out of the car….so clearly this wasn’t the way….
So I guess it will be no use confronting Her about the time She tried to suffocate me either…(I can still taste the salt on Her hands as she held them over my mouth and nose)…or the sexual abuse of me and my brother…or….and the list goes on.
Yes, this I REMEMBER.
She recently sent an email that said, “What is it that I did to you that was so bad Michelle? ….I don’t know what belief system you live by –
but I live by one- and it’s called LOVE Michelle.”
She’s not able to hear the truth so I leave Her to Her delusion until She finds courage. She says “I’ve caused her more pain than anyone” She’s not interested in me. Do you understand?
It’s called a Veil. It is lifted of its own accord.
The road isn’t through them in this case, it’s somehow more “around them” do you see?
My brother is a Dragon hurling and spewing straight at me but he’s still my majestic little king friend and I love him anyway. He won’t know until he’s ready….
I always get blamed. It’s part of my purpose. I put myself in their path for a reason beyond me.
And I’m not better. We don’t have to hear “I’m sorry.” And we don’t even have to always say it either. Everyone is inside Their own Wolf.
How much can She handle? I don’t know,
How deep is your love?
So are we alone then? Each of us awaiting the crucifixion or the exorcism? There’s no difference (after all that’s what She said)
Jesus is in there and She’s white mixed with blood and we burn Her as the witch and we
hang Her as the cross. She fills the sky with smoke to bring us down and notch or two.
Feathers turn to Him as magic and we pray for the rain to fall. We’re killing with precision and we meant the beast no harm…
She can’t stop me. She’s right,
“Its called LOVE Michelle.”
The hunter flinched and the spell was broken.
Her White paw resting upon His hand. She was looking at Him now softly as a wise mother speaking to Her cub. “We come from there” She said, looking toward the cluster of stars in the sky. “We are The Wanders”
the fresh blood upon Her silver fur glistened and I knew we were free…
“There is a Great War that we fight. Where we hunt and we spook and we fly over oceans.
The ripe fall and we eat them. The crooked run and we catch them. The still sit and we watch them. The sky is a screen that The Watchers look through. They already know where we are.
The Watchers are the Waxing Ones and the Moon is just a wolf’s cry away. Don’t forget me”….
and then She bled into the ground as a puddle of moonlight upon the earth…..and I heard a girl’s voice in the distance crying
“Aurora where did you go?!” Aurora….come back……come back……
The star was swelling in the sky
twinkle of death in Her big black eye
“get closer” whispered hidden clouds
“follow the star don’t be shy”
baby Christmas howls
and the white womb prism glows
like a flower in an open field
lightening flashes and the earth is
creaking, cracking and the worms
are rising from their sleep
from down beneath the singing little girl
The rain is falling in streams of silver
running down Her winter face
the tree is holding this prayer
sending to the sky above Her
words written for tomorrow
and it all unfolds as She sits
beneath the tree upon the earth…
worms growing into golden snakes”
Into the sounds of the dark we reach pulling up the roots of our noise… waiting for the letters
to reach us…and we travel deep into the earth, into the Secret Places where They make fire for volcanoes and darkness for light… both of us knowing only then that our paws are white and our feet are gold. Both of us knowing only then where the blood really comes from.
(There’s a hole in this story.
WARNING: The Truth is Deep)
Because in a circle at sunrise She will spell
your name across the sky and with
invisible eyes you will see Her. (The name
She gave you in the night, for only you to read)……
She turned over in bed again and again….struggling in the tangled sheets…She opened Her eyes….golden sunlight streaming in.
Was it a dream?
“The Mosaic takes no prisoners.
Remember me in the morning.”
(she wrote this down in the notebook near her bed. She didn’t know where it came from….maybe some memory or some dream…)
(As the sun rose even though She seemed to have left him…he knew She’d only changed Her shape. His instincts told him that She would rather die in battle then to die because She had given up. They were both hunters after all. And he understood His Mother well)
We can make it and we can take it and
it’s impossible to break it.