BLOODLETTING

Yesterday I met with a friend.

We sat under a tree

Drank coffee.

Spoke of lovely things

 

Until

 

She reminded me

That my way of expressing last week

Was too much for her

 That, I was speaking too loudly

and it was embarrassing!

 

Of course, she didn’t see

How she provoked what she feared subconsciously…

triggering my anger

so she could avoid her own and blame me.

A fearful mind cannot honour feelings.

 

Why…Oh, why,

               do we try to get blood from stones?

So we can keep bleeding?

 

The agreement between us

Was never set up to hold me

I was the caretaker…

never allowed to be needy.

 

As a child, I took this in

Became the scapegoat

Carried the pain.

 

Strangely,

I am immensely grateful for this experience

today…

 

Because while my friend walked away

I got to stay with me.

I did not squash down my expression for her comfort and ease.

I did not reject or abandon myself.

I stayed with me

Held my own heart’s bleeding.

 

What do I expect from someone

who has made an art

Of running from things?

 

I remember all the times

I faced her violent, belligerent and ugly demons

Enduring her false blood

red wine

raging.

 

Denying myself…

Enabling.

 

Yesterday,

I met with a friend.

 We walked along the beach.

And I told her the very same thing

I had told my other friend.

 

 To my relief,

    this time…

this friend

                       listened

 

                   So…

I dropped in..

Past the anger

Past the anguish

Down, down, down

To the grief.

To the very bloodroot of things.

 

I shed a tear…

I felt safe to be seen.

Then…

              a miracle

The physical pain drained from my body…

No head doctor EVER brought me to this

                The Holy Grail

                               The womb-space of love

transforms everything!

 

To my first friend,

I love you dearly.

Your magic, your wonder, your creativity.

Gorgeous drama queen…

 

Yet it’s clear,

we are moving in different veins,

         in different arteries.

 

I get

you don’t want

my blood on your shoes or your rug.

It shows up what’s underneath.

 

And,

I am finally done with watching

                  YOU bleed

                                      Internally.

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