Notes of Nativity

Notes of Nativity





You may call me crazy, and you may be right. Nonetheless, there are monsters among us, smiling at your children, hiding behind the illusions of peace and security. There is no security. Safety is a magician’s trick and sanity is a cosmic joke.

We dance. That is the only remedy. We pirouette around the pain and we two-step to modern tragedies and call them progress. In the middle of it all, we dream. We dream and we dance and we live our lives in the stream of consciousness that tells us we are more than our experiences, more than our pain. We are created and we create ourselves inside and outside the boundaries that are supposed to keep us human, but some of us color outside the lines.

So who are the dancers and who are the monsters who slip in between us and defile our joy? Who are the loving fathers, brothers, uncles and who are the demons who tear young flesh and turn sweetness into silent screams? The invisible wounds give birth to shattered souls who forget how to recognize themselves in the dance, who must struggle to see their own image in a mirror.

And so we pretend. We close our eyes and hold our tongues and try to believe that survival equals life. Sometimes it works. Sometimes a soul, determined to live, finds another way. I thread my way between the light and the dark, between black despair and high fantasy, living in many worlds as many people. I am the heroine who holds up the sword of righteousness, and the sly thief in the night who steals candles and dances with the old gods. I am the innocent and the brazen. I am whatever I need to be. I am the phoenix who rises from her own ashes. I live in spite of the monsters and I grow strong in my scars. I howl when others remain silent and when I cannot scream, I sing. When I cannot sing, I write, and always I dance, inside where none can see. I dance.