Emergence
blood moon beams a laser line
steady across the ever-shifting sea
why out of billions target me?
orange-red painted toes scrunch sand
ocean mothers them foamy clean
exfoliating bits of death tumble and withdraw
it occurs to me to cry here
awash in this surf of tears
every one that has been cried or will be
this edge of grief is blurring underfoot
blood moon stirs the waters sucks
the sand and i shift deeper with it
more aware with each bracing slap
that things dwell in the darkness
that out past the waves i could drown
if i were Atlantian i would not be afraid
this is the realm of monsters and mer people
the womb from which Venus rose enshelled
i think perhaps she screamed
new-glistening with fluid salt
of course they made of her a goddess
Venus understood from birth that falling
into another is to die and be reborn
yourself, but inevitably altered
by the experience of life through other eyes
goddess of sex they called her because
a human worships that which terrifies
them most, in that worship seeks
to nullify that power to transform
maybe i am not the only person spending
countless numbered hours recreating
a space of comfort, warmth and utter sameness
in which i am free to live and love and feel
is it myself I fear and worship? Me as I Am
or the Me that will Become? have I
reason to be thus afraid of me?
if I believe enough to raise my hand
could I walk the rose gold
undulating pathway to the sky
to let the goddess step out of her shell
cold and shrieking and exposed
refusing to be worshiped, longing to be known
not a monster or a myth, but human
sorrow-born, unprepared but willing
to live and die and resurrect myself again