Saturday, May 18, 2019

The Gift

She walks into the room a wiser woman than she once was, eyes look upon her with uneasiness. She has seen things they have never seen, felt things they have not felt. Some believe they can comprehend the pain, and they rush to tell her this. Others look in awe, wondering how she survives.
She brings a gift. A box she places on the table which no one has the courage to touch.  She is the crone, the survivor, the one who lived through the unlivable. There is a knowledge inside of her that no one wants to truly understand but there it sits on the table, waiting for someone to open.
There is tension in the room as apprehensive dwellers circle around the package. Do they have the resolve to poke at the box? Will they receive her gift or retreat and pretend not to have noticed the sage and her bundle.

This is a gift she offers, the only thing she has left to give. Within is an appreciation for life, that can only be gained through death. There is knowledge of what it feels like to be stripped of her own skin and cling to life.
A woman steps towards the table and slides the piece of gold ribbon, untying the bow and the box falls open. They gasp as the sorrow forms a cloud above the table, not comprehending how this could be a gift she is giving them. 
The cloud is her knowledge, her comprehension, her compassion, her strength, and her tenderness. Her gift is a safe space to lay your burden. Her gift is guidance and wisdom. She holds keys to understanding and unlocking the darkest nightmares and staring them straight in the eyes. Her gift is an understanding, true perception of the deepest pain imaginable. She can look you in the eyes and say "I feel your pain" and you will glance back and believe her. She senses loss, undoing, destruction,  and she never looks away. She holds it in her hands, she knows it can no longer bite her, she has become to unsusceptible to the venom. She will never come undone again. 
Her gift is hard to receive, to someone not in the circumstance to receive it. So she keeps her gift, writing down the contents of the box, the words within the cloud of darkness. Only giving her gift to those who seek it, and who are ready to receive it. She knows it's too much weight, a burden to those not ready, and a relief to those already there.

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