Sunday, September 18, 2011


What was wrong? There were no visions. Only blackness, a vague sense of puffiness and a constriction in the lower abdomen. The gathering storm was unpredicted, and perfect. With great effort I fought back the first one, breathing and swallowing into the soupy, tumultuous sky. When the second storm hit, the wolf howled and I was a goner.

Like blood from an open wound, love gushed up from the center, removing all obstacles. There was a tremendous ripping feeling as a rotten childlike festerous tumor was expelled. What remained there was awash in a scintillating light. And she was there winking and smiling with unfathomable intelligence, folding into the geodesic creases and effortlessly popping out again. "Thank you," I telepathed. And she responded with a wave of deliciousness.

Hours later as the dust settles, I take stock in what remains. The dank catacomb is open now and the glistening moldy black walls are screaming raw in the glaring sunlight. The child lays on the floor in the fetal position of total shame. "Things will be different now." I say. "You are free." His pale translucent face turns to look up at me, as the lumps of a deformed face capture the light of day for the first time since those first few innocent months following birth. The whole right side of his forehead and eye socket are caved in and puttied over with lumpy hairless skin.

"You won't want to hear what I have to say." he croaks in whisper.

"Nothing in the universe is unworthy of love. Your lumps are beautiful," I reply.

The child begins to cry. I offer my hand to help him up.

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