I am the woman, smeared in her own ashes
who walked through fire and did not ask it to be kind.
I came through not unmarked, not untouched
but carrying the ash like a testimony, of the fires journey.
To the ocean that did not rush me.
It waited patiently and with faith,
as it always had.
Calling not with urgency but with playful truth.
It moved in its slow way, responding to the moon,
touching the shore again and again,
They danced their ancient dance..as if for the first time.
As if nothing had been lost…as if nothing could.
I did not come to be washed clean.
I came to remember.
To stand at the threshold..where fire met water.
I had to wait for ten years to let the fire turn to ash,
So it could gracefully dissolve and not die in reaction.
I stood there with what I had become, noticing.
I stand here now with both in my hands..
The burning and the blessing,
The silence and the song.
I stand now with fire in one hand, water in the other
stretched big by both,
And claimed by neither.
And now,
I do not seek. I do not chase. I am not waiting.
I return to me as Me.
I Arrive.
Held….
by my own becoming.
~Rhea
May 04
