She didn't want to cry or try again as she used to so many times before, she just felt raging fury being born. Yes, being born! This is what she was carrying all this time under her chest. That is what was causing all the pain and helplessness. Something had to be born, she knew it, but never had she thought about this. Nevertheless this newborn child felt wonderful- truly her own and right on time. As she looked into it's eyes she knew- anger makes her who she is. When she gets angry, she does and says truly what she means with such profound honesty, that it's almost cruel. I think it's time to fall in love with that healthy anger and stop pretending that we are all surrounded by the cotton, that the world is soft and we are protected from the unwanted, uncomfortable, irritating, lustful, brutal, tragic or painful....
Again and again the sprouts wilt screaming into hear ears:
- finally see Death!..
She stumbled upon Death so many times and fell so hard on her knees, she couldn't stop crying or get up- yet she couldn't talk about it, nor understand it, because witnessing Death and really seeing it is different. There is a purpose for it. There is a reason for living ones be left behind, if it's a journey. But what if it's a stop... then there is a reason to be loud and scream with all Your might all You can and all You should.
She stood there in front of her dark dry soil filled with little bodies and she wept out all the pain she kept closed behind the glass show-case, then dried up her tears and decided to do things differently- openly, bravely and with no regret or guilt of Truth.
