The River Lethe
image credit: Irma Hudson
The winds fill my sail and
whisper to
my heart.
“Onward, warrior.
Down the River Lethe where your
reflection kept secret
ambitions to wear
the scapegoat’s
scars like stripes upon back or
wrists for the blood
curse they drink in
your honor.
No
You’re not allowed to pray.
Because their god is not
listening.
Not to you, at least.”
As if my Father would turn his eyes from me.
As if my Mother would not love me.
As if all of Heaven would not
smile upon my journey
through this Earth
Temple
while I accept
All That Is.
“Their shadows look
better
on a old-fashioned model.
A Jonah
A Joan
A Jesus
A Satanist
This has happened before.
It will happen
again.”
As the fallen
tree floats
and forks with
every thought
an Angel reaches into
their black bag as I
watch.
My youth scatters like
ash to the dark
waters of unconscious
fear.
While the Tower
of martyrdom
rumbles like Jericho
under my feet.
Mama awakens
within me
“Lion rise,”
with my
six swords aboard
this hopeful vessel
in this here
Underworld.
“Onward, sailor.
Gather your Soul
pearl and tinsel
toward deeper seas.
Reject the curses of
rotten roots
and seek sacred
soil
where the trees and the
stones
sing your song
back to you.
Where the lines
disappear and
you never have to explain
who you are.
Onward, child of the Most High.
You will sail to the
place where Heaven
is on Earth
because your heart says
it is so.
Your family
will know you.
You will speak with your
heart and they will
know you
by your
Love.”
And
in a moment
the Angel is gone.
The black waters
splash against the barge
and a chill echoes
my heart.
–Kaika ❤
