If only you could hear the Cry of the Heart of Woman; for the selfless
Sharing of Love
With each other
And with the world.
How everything is about ‘us’ — not me, not you…
About how the future looks from here…
I hear you ask: “What of the Cry of Man…”
I tell you: we see it in your actions, on the canvas of the world — the separation and the ego; the conditional exchange.
We offer you the truth — but you run from it, anywhere --
It’s our burden to contain.
Every man who has ever seduced
or forced his way inside our bodies
Left graffiti on the walls of the Sacred Womb.
The palace for rest, rebirth, and reunion
is now marked — even scarred — by the pain of man; the claws and bloody hand prints of reaching
Of trying to take what was to be offered at full bloom.
We read the stories you wrote from the roots of your pain;
…We hear the Cry of Man, from deep inside the Primal Cave.
We cried alone
After you left;
We cried with you, for you, and for ourselves.
We were never divided until you broke us apart.
As all things do,
We Rose again,
Bathed in the Purpose of Love
And we came to embrace you with an answer on our lips; a solution.
It’s your baby, now
I wanted to wait
Until I felt the Ears of your Heart attuned to the Song of mine.
But you can’t wait — or won’t — and inside me are your stories
Bouncing off the walls
Echoing throughout my nights and days…
Again, I know you better than you know yourself.
And you’re still not Brave enough to gaze at your own reflection.
I’ll have to pray again, to feel clean, to feel empty,
to feel pregnant with myself again…
I wanted to wait
Because Love Heals
And there’s a tear in my heart from where you ripped us apart.