Creature Speak


A Creative Writing Blog

Life Giver (Pacha Mamma Gives Birth)

My body is a microcosm
of the earth, raging against
depletion, destruction.

Scars are blocking my guts,
like damming up
the Amazon River
when 70% of our medicines
come from the jungle it feeds.

Some things just need to flow
or the world suffers.

Tribes have survived deep
inside the forest, keeping
the keys to our survival
held for centuries,
safe from the ravages of
those wearing ghosts
for skin.

Some things need to grow
if we could stop cutting away
at the earth’s lungs, the place
that breathes for us.

But we fell trees and make
a dam
in the blood of the world,
and inside of me.

The jungle has scar-tissue.
The river is obstructed.

I cannot eat.

My body is a temple, roped-off
and trapping monks within,
who find the darkest corners
in the depths of me and chant,
calling my hands to the pain
saying, “Don’t be afraid.”
I listen, and I push
through the scars.

I do this not to fight.
I do this to be free.

I grind my guts with my fist
and fingers. I press them
as hard as I can against
hard surfaces, in hopes
of opening
the temple doors.

I push and breathe, to give
a different kind of birth:
to make my currents
to move the barricade
so the jungle can drink;

Gripping pain right back
with my breath
and determination,
and indigenous prayers
meeting bodhisattvas
in the middle,
in my heart, aching,
drumming and chanting
for the dam to break.

I push instead of falling
under the knife again.
I have enough scars,
and I can’t afford
to trust someone in love
with cutting.

We need our trees.

My body is a mirror
of the jungles and rivers,
the forests and seas,
and even the cosmos are
behind my eyes.

So I push, and labor,
to save my own life,
and to help others
their home and claim it.

I do this not to fight.
I do this for all of us
to be free.

Copyright © 2018, Sheyorah Aossi


Art: The Sadness of Gaia by Josephine Wall

And now for an uplifting, beautiful, applicable music intermission by one of my favorite artists, Tina Malia.  The song is called Heal This Land.

[Poet’s Note: I wrote this poem about using the modality of Abdominal Massage to break apart adhesions caused by post-surgical scar-tissue, which causes recurring obstructions in my gut, as well as the possible long-term side effect of an umbilical hernia.

I connect my experience with the Amazon Jungle, not purely for metaphor, but because it is close to my heart for many reasons, including having personally spent quite some time there.  I was also recently very moved by This Video of a TEDX talk by a member of the Yawanawa tribe in the Brazilian Amazon.

If you are concerned about cultural appropriation issues due to my usage of the terms “monks” and “bodhisattva,” please know that these are also very meaningful to me because of a great deal of personal experience.  If you are still concerned, please send me a message and we can have a heart to heart discussion about it.]

About Me

I wrote my first story when I was a wee girl of three, followed by my first poem when I was eight. I’ve been writing ever since as a way to cope with life. This practice evolved with learning in both structured settings and through the practice, itself. In my own healing crisis, I found a process I affectionately refer to as Poetic Alchemy. Now on the journey of getting my life back, I do this not only for myself but for you.

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