Poem: The Scapegoat’s Heart Along

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 ❤

Masculine Power, Dancing Polarities, and Jedi Temple Ghosts

This image belongs to Disney. (duh)

I’m beginning to wield masculine power in healthy ways. I’m learning to be patient when I’m angry, confident when I’m afraid.

Easy to fake, not easy to become.

A father to my inner daughter. A brother to my wife.

The light may flood the shifting dark, the darkness fall upon light.

An expansive Love, the edge of my blade, a fierce Rage, its other.

The trick is to stay balanced.

The secret is to dance.

Beware.

The uninitiated find themselves on deadly tightropes.

The shadow lingers like chamber smoke, inhaling poison and filling the spirit with darkness.

Don’t rush to the dark side upon childish passions.

Take the time to train the mind, to expand the heart, and learn to see both good and bad in everyone.

Along the Middle Path, the Grey Padawan is filled with purpose.