The hand and the shadow. As the sun sets, light fades through the window. The angular shadows beckon me closer. I reach out with my finger, looking to meet my Shadow Self on the wall. Seeking to integrate those parts of myself I deny and push down. What happens when I touch the Shadow Self?
Hand seeks the shadow
Shadow reaches to the hand
My two selves’ touch
This shadowed path leads to nowhere.
Remarkably, the man cast no shadow.
He traversed the valley for days
seeking the ancient one who’d provide
nourishment to his ailing soul
words from a holy mouth that
would unlock secrets of his inner-being –
sloshing through thick mud, the traveler perceives him
through the fog –
the figure of the ancient man
glowing, golden in the valley of shadows.
(Photo by John Joumaa on Unsplash)
I want to trace my family’s history,
go back + find out how we got here –
there was a suicide in the ‘70s, a wound
we carry but do not discuss –
secrets hide in the shadows
+ who knows how they affect us.
A jagged moon is cracked and
people gather on the hill –
white teens in Metallica shirts
and a Mustang in the dusty field.
They want dirt and blood.