Friday, January 20, 2012

mourning moon

I loved you before I knew to love you. I whispered your name on the wind.

Lucia. Lucia Paz. Where are you?

The only thing I hold of you now is the grief, like a cast around my heart. I signed your name on it so many times, it became part of the love I feel for everything. Someone once asked me if you wrote it yourself, I said yes until I believed it.

I miss you. I miss your little head. And your beautiful everything. It is strange to feel lonely without someone you met only once, but I suppose I never met you, not really. I only knew you dead. That is just not the same.

The morning moon hung to the southeast this morning, perfect in its sliver. I felt the dawn inside of me. An awakening to something like solitude, not loneliness, but a learning to be alone. I am a hermit. An old soul. A crone. A holy woman, wild hair like a crown above my head. I cannot take in the flesh, and neither can I let the flesh go. I tear at it with my teeth, small bites for protein. I need strength to be alone. But it is a conflict. I let her flesh leave me. She was taken away to a room somewhere. Did they love her, the men that cut her open? Did they cry? Did they soothe her bruises? Did they pray? Did they know she was named Lucia?

I keep thinking I have written about her for the last time, but then I see the moon in the early morning. The way it winks as it wanes. The way it reminds me of time. And I write about her. Sometimes when I cannot escape myself, I find her. Kept secret behind the moon, playing hide and seek.

Find me, mama.

I am in the winter sky. I am in the early dawn. I am in your seclusion. I am not speaking through mediums and channels and charlatans. I am in the quiet. I am in the tears. I am etched in your skin. I am in the cough. I am the distance. I am the early morning. I am the birds. I am your baby. I am the forest through the trees. I am not here. I am everywhere.

You say you cannot find me, but you have been looking right at me. When you are on your knees, begging for peace, offering yourself to peace, that is where I am.


15 comments:

  1. This is beautiful... reminds me of that poem, "I am a thousand winds that blow..." They are with us always, everywhere. (((hugs)))

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  2. So beautiful, Angie. Missing Lucia with you. xo

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  3. Oh this is beautiful... heartbreakingly beautiful. I look for Liam in the sky, in the drifting clouds, in the stars, in the moon..
    Peace to you.

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  4. I've been absent from this little corner of the interweb for a while ... but what a post to come back to. I felt your words right in my spine.

    The cast around my heart ... yes, yes, oh yes.

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  5. The cast around my heart line got me too.
    Beautiful, Angie.
    xo Lucia xo

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  6. My moon baby, my star baby....Looking looking looking. Where are they?

    In the forest, in the creeks? where are they?

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  7. My goodness Angie, this is perfect.

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  8. Please never stop writing about Lucia. Thanks Angie.

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  9. Love your blog. Beautiful writer. Found you on the Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope website. I'd love to have you follow along on my blog as well; www.roseandherlily.blogspot.com I am sorry for your loss

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  10. So beautiful, Angie. I'm glad you caught a glimpse of her, your Lucia. I wish you could have more than that.

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  11. Beautiful.... and so unbelievably true

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  12. This is quite right...so soothing to my mourning.

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