She snatches the tablecloth out from under my perfectly positioned place settings. Deep red wine runs in rivers down the table legs. “No use crying over spilled blood!” she cackles, lapping up the liquid from between my thighs. I vacillate between awe and terror, wild laughter and crazy tears. Everything feels like it’s fucking falling apart, together.

In the shadow of the new moon, the end and the beginning, the goddess is rising in the form of alpha dog and omega man. As my body recognizes another missed opportunity to procreate, it sloughs off the old to make way for the new. Each month throwing a fit in red waves of blood and pain, before wiping away one last tear and cheerfully beginning to once again paper the walls of the nursery. What naïve optimism, what unwavering faith. And I continue to thwart its plans, nipping in the bud any new growth; I can barely keep myself alive sometimes.

She cracks open my ribcage, delicately cups my still beating heart in her rough hands and holds it up to my face. “Look!” she laughs. “Listen!” she insists. “This is all that matters. THIS IS ALL THAT REALLY FUCKING MATTERS!”

If you forsake your heart the world will forsake you, will always feel empty, cruel, void of love and meaning and purpose. But forsake the world for your heart and she will open herself up before you, lay herself down in front of you, and beckon you to have your way with her.

“Why oh why,” she continues, her words hissing in my hear, “do you question the only thing that is true, real, and honest? Dark clouds gather in your mind, heavy rains of worry and fear drowning your precious heart. Clear away the clouds of uncertainty, connect to what is real in me, which is what is real in you.”

Her words caress my soul as her many arms bless every inch of my skin, washing away the debris of many lifetimes, many lovers, many deaths, many joys, many sorrows. Layer after layer she strips me bare until I tremble and surrender, until I lay naked and vulnerable, until I have no choice but to let go. I asked for this, I remind myself.

“I am ready,” I whisper with quiet ferocity as she plunges her hand, still holding my heart, back into my awaiting chest.


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Erin Marie Yoga



Helping people who are ready for better

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