Tonight I am in pain.
I want to curl up into a ball in the centre of a family of souls who are far from me. I remember their energy. I remember holding hands to my heart. And that absence is carved into the air, so thick. If there were an echo, it would reverberate and I could catch onto it like a wave. But this carving is one of pure lack.
And I have had those moments where I have felt their energy. It’s wrapped in the crystal he wore. And the other day his soul came to me and it was warm again. And it’s locked into the touch I remember of healing from the one who leaves pearls in his wake. And It’s in her eyes that I can still see. And he’s in every shade of indigo I see.
All I know is the deep, dark snow that seems to be invisibly falling. I suppose it’s ash. Ashes from the past that explodes behind me repeatedly (Flashbacks driving home: ‘Don’t crash’, ‘It’s not happening now’. Flashbacks parking the car: ‘You didn’t know they were using you. This doesn’t make you evil’). Ashes from The Urn that expired long ago, but has returned to make itself known… an asking, a calling for rebirth.
“Rebore me”, it asks of me. “Come into my centre, down inside the ceramic walls and know what I know.”
But I run.
These ashes are not cold. When I start to touch them it’s as though they begin to smolder, return to ember and ignite. How can I hold something that burns me? I know I have to die into the phoenix. And then I’ll see that The Urn is not my home. It’s the place of my rebirth. It’s the shell of my new life. I crack it open and I learn to breathe again, and eventually I’ll take to the cliff and fly.
Fire walks through me.
This is the return
Of who I was
Who I’ve always been
But I don’t know me
~ Rebecca Elizabeth Anne