Swaying to the Sound of a Sorrowful, Storyless Song

The pre-moon, now moon has me dripping silver and welling in the feminine. Waters breech the stories that have been staked down in the sands of my sensuous. Soaked, the flattened flags now quilt the sea and I am left covered in the imperceptible stitches of memories not worth conquering. I am no longer able to wrap myself in patches of pity, petty, sometimes even pretty tales of how I came to be. Here in this sadness using me. Millions of stories surface, wanting me to cling, but after clinging so much i’m only left with ache. So i’ve sliced up the stories. Made them into shuffling square snap-shots sewn with a simple stitch over the minds eye blinking plenty for a start, a cue, or some devastating capture, anything to get these tears rolling. And in their pour a *poof*. Nothing left but the sea. Here in lies the ebb and flows of humanities impure waters. The Mother wants her tears back.

I am brought again and again this past week to, the Mayan tale, "The Disobedience of the Daughter of the Sun," which, much to my surprise, has me rung out to steep within its wonderfully weeping layers. These past days have me feeling sore from being woven into the world’s grief. If only I could cry for days. Perhaps then the rippling tickle of tears behind these eyes, would recall their worry.

Without the tall tales of personal trials towering us to our toppling exhaustion, we are left with the collective chasms of cataclysmic proportions trying to consume us whole. And if we drop even that story, the one of the world loosing hope to a dis-eased humanity blackening the womb, then all we are left with is sadness. The only thing to be done with that sadness is, just that, sadness. The act being with what is welling within us without attaching it to particulars allows the trapped grief stricken energies of the world to be channeled back into the place of its belonging. By permitting a nameless sorrow to flow through us, we become the vessels that cry the salt back to the sea. “For without her the world refused to grow,” the fishes would refuse to swim and float, the birds would refuse to fly and fall, and the humans would refuse to love.