Chapter Six...My Soul

 

Cabin In The Dawn

1970

Words upon words, I lay on once more

Promises and lovers are gone with the morn.

When one day a fair haired boy came with promises in poem.

He was wild with rage, he was crazy and scorned

Telling me of his world where I will not mourn.

This boy made me a woman the boy killed my life

Flying in midair he slashed my soul with his knife.

This was written a long time ago by the hand of a once innocent girl. It's one of hundreds of poems and short stories I wrote and still possess. The aging notebooks filled with penciled doodles and handwriting are now beginning to fade. I've carried them through the years tucked away in an unpacked box rarely ever reading them except for one or two. I wrote them in study hall, at the library, in the confines of my bedroom and at my most favorite place, the lake. I don't remember where I wrote most of them, but the scraggy script on some told me I either wrote them on the way home from school on the bus, or with gloved hands and shivering on the icy lake shore. Some are wrinkled with the sweat of a bottle of pop that dried in a circular pucker, or an occasional mascara stained tear. Every one was filled with the emotions of a heavy heart that no one but me would understand. I may not remember the where, but I can clearly pin the events of when each was written. Reading them now, I see a very forbidden world, filled with ups and downs, the kind not reserved for a young woman. I was reading a bipolar account of being a damaged teenager and looking into the soul of the person I forgot, unable to distinguish love from abuse.  

Today, I placed myself in the best comfortable yoga position I could muster in front of the paper shredder, and began to shred some of those poems...the ones that caused me the most pain. I have kept them sacred for over forty years, and just like the pain I've hidden so well, it's now time to dispose of them one by one along with the memories attached to each. The time has come to perform a final exorcism and rid the ghosts that have attached themselves to me. We moved across country twice in the past 30 years. I thought by leaving the beautiful state that runs through my blood, I would be set free. I was not.

My Soul

1970

i stood naked in the ocean holding my soul

and watched as it turned to hot salted sand

desperately clenching my fist to hold it

until the grains began to burn and etch my skin.

through my small straining fingers

every grain escaped into the lapping waves

and dissolved into the foaming gray water at my feet

now, nothing but every tear, every lie

and above all, every sinful act lingers

when i opened my tired hand my soul was gone

i trembled and died.

i struggle to hide the deadness inside

and conceal the emptiness in my eyes

my body shudders and my mind screams

fight

fight to live.

but why?

because my handful of existence has vanished

and my soul is lost.

 

At fifteen, I never saw the ocean, but I imagined a magnificent body of water illuminated with fiery diamonds dancing on the waves. I knew the power and beauty of God's making was certain to take my breath away, and it did just that several years later. My memory of writing that poem was after standing in slightly mucky lake water after looking for skipping stones. I never learned to be a proficient swimmer and the thought of wading out until the water was over my head was a terrifying thought. I knew I would panic and drown. Drowning, was a thought I contemplated on that particular day. It was a thought I had when I walked for miles on the ice covered lake and unexpectedly fell through a thin spot. I read somewhere back then that when people drown, it's like falling asleep. But, one night reality dug its gnarly nails deep into my arm and my life force kicked in when I was threatened to be electrocuted, wrapped up in a shower curtain and dumped into the lake. It no longer seemed like a peaceful easy way to go.

Drowning danced off and on in my mind, but the consequences to my everlasting soul kept me from doing it. I owe my life to a strong religious upbringing. Even though I had my mind made up I was going to hell and I was heading there on the fast train, there was a chance I would find someone who would love me for who I really was. The greatest sin would be to take the life God gave to me and destroy it and spend eternity with all the other lost souls. I turned my back on my faith and ran rampant with the rest of the wolves, knowing redemption and forgiveness would eventually find me. It got worse before it got better and the things I did, I am not proud of.