searching

soul searching.

river goes with me and we find peace at the preserve. among the butteflies and turtles and sunbathing peacocks.

running away was always my defense. i know now that it's no defense at all. i know that i wanted to run away during birth. i left my body, i went and sat on the ceiling with my back to the circumstance with my fingers in my ears. but something deep inside of me told me to wake the fuck up. maybe it was a circle of dancing ancestral sisters chanting around me. maybe i had all those sister souls helping me, guiding me through the ring of fire during birth. no longer was i tied to the stake, burned alive. those witches and midwives and medicine women had finally set me free.

i'm learning now, a full 2.5 years later, that this is why post partum depression hit me so fucking hard in the stomach. like a full fisted punch from a grinning bully. knocking all breath from me. forcing me to lay down and choke and gasp and to suck in a new breath. atlast a new start.

i knew that i couldn't run away from my post partum depression. and so during that time, it was like two sides of me were battling. the old me wanting to cower in the corner, giving up after making it to the top of the stairs after being chased by my older brother. he was trying to make me stronger, but that's not how it works. no one can make you strong. it can't be forced. it has to come from within. and only at the right time. you either recognize it and grow, or it breaks you.

my new self, after birth, was the short haired warrior woman with blood streaks painting her cheekbones, arms, and thighs. meeting the waters as they rose. wading and pushing with strong muscles, through the flood with her baby held high above her head. she is the woman who taught me strength. she is the woman who i watched stand and be brave, and she is who taught me to stop running. sometimes i forget that she is me.

i see river's face in the rearview mirror, as he cocks his head at an angle to watch me drive. "are your eyes open, momma?" yes, they are. "hey, i love you momma" he says, and bob dylan serenades us on the way home.

"please see for me if her hair hangs long,
if it rolls and flows all down her breast.
please see for me if her hair hangs long,
that's the way i remember her best.
i'm wondering if she remembers me at all.
many times i've often prayed.
in the darkness of my night,
in the brightness of my day."