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A Story from the Milestone Stretch ; Through the Wilderness to Forgiveness

Into what strange world had I wandered?


Storming through the wilderness, a reckless child; I had become obsessed.


A non-winner? I cannot bear it.


If I am too gracious, I am made foolish by your uncontrollable passions.

If I am too honest, I become brazen and imploring.


Commitment and sacrifice are the same God.


A carving stream, you merged a river running free with another. How beautiful. How annoying.


Humbled for too long, a lowly ocean I waited for you to meet me. Nothing but the empty, cool night air did breathe upon my skin. All the whispers, a swirling sound of circular thoughts. As I lost sight of my steady course, I had never known such a quick pull and descent.


What is the difference between a giggle in the mind and a wriggling motive of a lover, escaping the tentacles of my knotted grasp?


I began to drink the way you did. Perhaps we could share a drunken vision! A skewed nightmare from below.


Must I live this again…


I remember once, a dream brought to light.


A hollering waif of the woodland with keyhole pupils loomed above our bed. The white curtains panicked as she asked for our first-born child in her upturned hands. In quick wit, you distracted the demented mother with a riddle:


Give me your price.

With gold, I pay.

With love, I stray.

With life, I weigh.


All the while, I fetched an old Victorian pram. There, upon the pillow, lay a rusted and coppering key. She swiped it up and examined it with marvel and awe. A portal she opened, and with that we did close our doors.


Twisted Mama, take this offering. I bestow a cup of forgotten bliss. My Karmic eulogy. Let this plague end here. I welcome this death and I will process this loss alone.



All the punk days are over anyway. I want to deeply understand the limits of all things and why they continue to serve a great purpose. A new reverence for elder ways has flourished in me since this foul ordeal. It seems the path is already underfoot before you decide to walk it.


None of this was ever up to you.



I had lost myself in wanting to be part of your world. And all I wish now is to frazzle the air of your scent. I fell into my own temptations and visited the Witch who dwells deep in the heart of the forest. She appeared to me with the tusked face of a boar, snatching at my pockets for payment. After the exchange was done, she unlocked a box with a familiar key and sent me back out into the waving world with a spell to perform for forty days and forty nights.


As I burn you up, I can see a clinical reality – all the gross mechanisms of our shared experience. With my back still hunched from your weighty vitriol, carrying all the harbingers, I glean from the smouldering heap. The debris builds me an island, a safe foundation in a rising ocean of spirits.


You can keep your misotheism.


Since I left you, I have been spending my hours swimming in the howl: -


It is the long, stretchy bubble-space between a me-that-was-with-you and the next milestone.


It would be a lie to say that I do not enjoy this place, meeting the mother of all my monsters. Each night, I light little candles that float upon the flood, slowly guiding me this way and that. The island is slowly populated with slithering creatures.


At times, I am hypothermic in the black water. The days fly by as I collect the fallout, so much of it sunken under. All of this churning is enough to make an Amazon sick. It is tough, gruelling work to create a paradise and I am tired, but deeply satisfied. I desire writing stories of my own life again. I begin to analyse them and realise I am interesting.


No more love poems or songs of longing.


And – importantly – I don’t care if anyone relates.


I relinquish.



The water becomes still and the breeze pollinates the meadows. Everyone I used to know would find it boring here. But I am perfectly content. You have to learn to be content. It is an active, balancing art. I am so occupied with it; what need is there for your extremities and addictions? I chuckle thinking that was the persona I wanted to be enveloped by.


Me, the Devil and his Mistress.


How the jealousy did nearly destroy me. How your disrespect did sink my heart. But it was I who put the nail in the coffin. How ugly I must have looked at the dirty end. Spluttering and withholding mercy. I opened myself up seven-fold to discover completely; what hurts, what binds, what deludes, what drives. Then I cut, cut, cut. I left you behind in pursuit of my island.


This is my last laugh.


I see myself, the clown.


Through my own absurdity, I become one with my ridiculousness. The fusion energises me like the Sun. Shortly shall all my labours end. I act so freely in this hilarious melodrama of my existence, as if waltzing around with forgiveness in every step.


(I forgave you a long time ago, that was not the issue).


People go their whole lives never giving in. They refuse to let it go.


This is what I refuse.


To forgive you, I must forgive myself. To forgive myself, I must forgive us; the entity we birthed as one is but the ocean kissing the shore.


I throw my basket of smouldered debris into the air and out across the blue, screaming in love.


The peculiar beauty that is bigger than you or I, and completely out of our control.


I dance and I dance, my hips and my belly rolling with the waves.



🃏 Dark Goddess Tarot by Ellen Lorenzi-Prince


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