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Meena Menon Apr 28
The brightest star can shine even with thick black velvet draped over it.  
Quartz, lime and salt crystals formed a glass ball.
The dark womb held me, warm and soft.  
My mom called my cries when I was born the most sorrowful sound she had ever heard.  She said she’d never heard a baby make a sound like that.    
I’d open my eyes in low light until the world’s light healed rather than hurt.  

The summer before eighth grade, July 1992, I watched a shooting star burn by at 100,000 miles per hour as I stood on the balcony  while my family celebrated my birthday inside.  
It made it into the earth’s atmosphere
but it didn’t look like it was coming down;
I know it didn’t hit the ground
but it burned something in the time it was here.  
The glass ball of my life cracked inside.  
Light reflected off the salt crystal cracks.  
I saw the beauty of the light within.  
Nacre from my shell kept those cracks from getting worse,
a wild pearl as defense mechanism.  
In 2001, I quit my job after they melted and poured tar all over my life.  
All summer literature class bathtubs filled with rose hip oil cleaned the tar.  
That fall logic and epistemology classes spewed black ink all over my philosophy written over ten years then.  
Tar turned to asphalt when I met someone from my old job for a drink in November
and it paved a road for my life that went to the hospital I was in that December
where it sealed the roof on my life
when I was almost murdered there
and in February after meeting her for another drink.  
They lit a fire at the top of the glacier and pushed the burning pile of black coal off the edge,
burnt red, looking like flames falling into the valley.  
While that blazed the side of the cliff something lit an incandescent light.  
The electricity from the metal lightbulb ***** went through wires and heated the filament between until it glowed.  
I began putting more work into emotional balance from things I learned at AA meetings.  In Spring 2003, the damage that the doctors at the hospital in 2001 had done made it harder for light to reflect from the cracks in the glass ball.  
I’d been eating healthy and trying to get regular exercise since 1994
but in Spring 2003 I began swimming for an hour every morning .  
The water washed the pollution from the burning coals off and then I escaped in July.  
I moved to London to study English Language and Linguistics.  
I would’ve studied English Language and Literature.  
I did well until Spring 2004 when I thought I was being stalked.  
I thought I was manic.  
I thought I was being stalked.  
I went home and didn’t go back for my exams after spring holiday.  
Because I felt traumatized and couldn’t write poetry anymore,
I used black ink to write my notes for my book on trauma and the Russian Revolution.  I started teaching myself German.  
I stayed healthy.  
In 2005, my parents went to visit my mom’s family in Malaysia for two weeks.  
I thought I was being stalked.  
I knew I wasn’t manic.  
I thought I was being stalked.  
I told my parents when they came home.  They thought I was manic.  
I showed them the shoe prints in the snow of different sizes from the woods to the windows.  
They thought I was manic.  
I was outside of my comfort zone.  
I moved to California.
I found light.  
I made light,
the light reflected off the salt crystals I used to heal the violence inflicted on me from then on.  
The light turned the traffic lights to not just green from red but amber and blue.  
The light turned the car signals left and right.  The light reflected off of salt crystals,
light emitting diodes,
electrical energy turned directly to light, electroluminescence.  
The electrical currents flowed through, illuminating.  
Alone in the world,
I moved to California in July 2005
but in August  I called the person I escaped in 2003,
the sulfur and nitrogen that I hated.  
He didn’t think I was manic
but I never said anything.  
I never told him why I asked him to move out to California.  
When his coal seemed like only pollution,
I asked him to leave.  
He threatened me.  
I called the authorities.  
They left me there.
He laughed.  
Then the violence came.  
****:  stabbed and punched,
my ****** bruised, purple and swollen.  
The light barely reflected from the glass ball with cracks— through all the acid rain, smoke and haze.
It would take me half an hour to get my body to do what my mind told it to after.  
My dad told me my mom had her cancer removed.
The next day, the coal said if I wanted him to leave he’d leave.  
I booked his ticket.
I drove him to the airport.  
Black clouds gushed the night before for the first time in months,
the sky clear after the rain.  
He was gone and I was free,
melted glass, heated up and poured—
looked like fire,
looked like the Snow Moon in February with Mercury in the morning sky.  
I worked through ****.  
I worked to overcome trauma.  
Electricity between touch and love caused acid rain, smoke, haze, and mercury to light the discharge lamps,
streetlights and parking lot lights.
Then I changed the direction of the light waves.  
Like lead glass breaks up the light, lead from the coal, cleaned and replaced by potassium, glass cut clearly,
refracting the light,
electrolytes,
electrical signals lit through my body,
thick black velvet drapes gone.
Meena Menon Apr 26
Haze scatters blue light on a planet.  
Frought women, livid, made into peonies by Aphrodites that caught their men flirting and blamed the women, flushed red.
Frought women, livid, chrysanthemums, dimmed until the end of the season, exchanged and retained like property.  
Blue women enter along the sides of her red Torii gates,
belayed, branded and belled,
a plangent sound.  
By candles, colored lights and dried flowers,
she’s sitting inside on a concrete floor,
punctures and ruin burnished with paper,
boiling burnt lime from lime mortar.  
Glass ***** on the ceiling,
she moves the beads of a Palestinian glass bead bracelet she holds in her hands.  
She bends light to make shadows against thin wooden slats curved along the wall
and straight across the ceiling.
A metier, she invents tinctures,
juniper berries and cotton *****.
Loamy soil in the center of the room,
a hawthorn tree stands alone,
a gateway for fairies,
large stones at the base protecting,
its branches a barrier.  
Its leaves and shoots make bread and cheese.
Its berries, red skin and yellow flesh, make jam.
Green bamboo stakes for the peonies when they whither from the weight of their petals
and lime in the soil,
she adds wood chips to the burnt lime in the kiln,
unrolled paper, spools, and wire hanging.
Wood prayer beads connect her to the earth;
the tassels on the end of the beads connect her to spirit, to higher truth.
Minerals, marine mud and warm basins of seawater on a flower covered desk,
she adds slaked lime to the burnt lime and wood chips.  
The lime converts to paper,
trauma victims speak,
light through butterfly wings.  
She’s plumeria with curved petals, thick, holding water.
I’m so grateful that women have websites to write about how they’ve suffered and there are people trying to help women heal that read their stories.
Descovia Feb 24
"Daddy. Wake up. You had a  big fall! Don't leave please, can you see me? You must come back! Don't look into the light, it will take you from me!"

The only sad part of this world is our languages serve no purpose!
Everyone and everything made no sense. Besides my own child. His appearance, not effected by this place.  All friends and family presented before me, were grey and  the weight of sadness was strong, with the stillness from silence filling the air. For some odd reason, I could scream and rage. But couldn't speak my son's name!


No, other place felt like home!

From the day, my visit with the realm of white

was short-lived.

My son's gentle voice

Strong enough to shatter the silence and brighten the dimness of environment. Floating in the abyss, until my soul established connection...


Back to this living hell once again! Flying through timelines, to ensure my detached spirit  have it's reunion with my body!

My guardian angel told me

"Release yourself, from all that hurt you.

The pain is only an illusion and it is temporary."

I hugged onto my savior. Feeling my light fade, remembering how beaten and broken I was.

Every word dripped with blood, fighting against the pain to stay awake. Breathing was forced, this is NOT to be of the life

I once had love for...

I could hear my voice and perpetual thoughts, along with that of family members,  running and slamming into another!

Breaking the atmosphere of this unearthly dimension. All in high efforts to reach out to me! No documentary or biography on a big screen compared, to seeing multiple lifelines flash before your eyes. Knowing it's all coming to an end, although the checkpoint served as a deciding point for another rare chance.  Just for that desired taste, for a bittersweet victory.

Regardless, if I would have fought back during battle.  There would have been a war.

What would have stayed the same?  

Would any difference have changed the outcome?

Is there an escape from this pain?

I never asked for this!

I didn't even have, a chance to make a fist! Two fools wanting to be Mr Big Dog, Mr Big S*, all in hands of my disposal,  were aimless words in my defense!

If I knew then what was known now. I would have,  gave you no option to call anyone willing to help you on your checklist!


My eyes were brimming with tears of anger. The glow from
my new found home slowly leaving me as while peacefully carrying myself away.

"Free myself? In a world shrouded in darkness. I lived for light! Empowered by Faith, and Hope to make amends so Karma will not interfere with destiny!
Forgive and accept, I am the one  left with regrets to bring the strongest of angels to their knees, to have a final moment to wept!"

Do you wish to be free? You may not come back as the same. The world is not ready for you to fall." The angelic voice soothe the sound of commotion of the thoughts and voices. It became background noise, instead of overpowering.

"Perhaps, I won't fall. If you let me go. It's fine. It was my decision! I am ready! I do not fear the fall, sorrow put a deafening hold on aspirations.  It's all or nothing. It was Isaiah I needed to protect. This wasn't possible as human, I was ready to surrender any part of myself!

I give my light in just to master what was feared most.

Darkness.


It was my turn to fly!

Seeing the alarming expression on my guardian's angel's face shift from confident to worried, and then accepting.

Falling so fast, even an angel of light
could not respond quick enough to save me.


My grasp purposely broken, to save and prove "Love" can save in all terms on any magnitude.  
I  realized, it's best to compromise and be a sacrifice!

My vision was consumed by the black energy, pouring from my overworked heart.

...

"Hey wake up....
You fell asleep Mr....
Are you okay?"


an innocent voice of a loved one filled my ears once again.

It was my son! I was lost in his glowing and reflective eyes, unaware on how he speaks, to me as if he didn't know of my identity. Fascinated with the fact my appearance increased in muscle mass, my eyes appeared more vicious and intimidating.  
Even my clothing were different, in a place where you never believe clothing would exist!
I was in a grey shirt, and blue jeans stained with blood. When I first encountered, Isaiah and my guardian angel.  Now, I am wearing all black button up, paired with black formal dress pants, along with matching shoes.

My height was equivalent to Slenderman and felt like my hands were strong enough to pick up people like marbles.

The painful breaths subsided.
My essence felt stronger.

"Be free but don't allow yourself to fall. If light fails to convince, we can give the darkness a try."

The duality between a gruff voice a masculine voice combined with a feminine nurturing voice in unison. Played like my favorite symphatetic melody, singing beautifully in the back of my mind.

I knew I was alive. The complexities of my body, were running in adrenaline mode.

Everything felt, powerful and responding to all my worries suddenly, felt instinctive.

My hand gently placed on my son's shoulder. I kneeled down on one knee, staring into the eyes of my beloved son. Feeling my own voice running, with the flow of new found energy revitalized in my stronger body.

"Isaiah...remember my promise?" I said with flowing waves of happiness, while smiling carefree.

"Daddy...?"
Isaiah said with a surprising smile, his eyes glistened with tears of happiness.

"I will always be free." I started

Without you, I will never fall!"
we both said together, with a brief laugh, we hugged each other and the light from the realm finally returned us home.

— The End —