My keen eye reveals my gentle prey.
My Shadow snarls and shouts and I kill the small bird.
My mother chastises and coos and shames me for my act.
My father frets and turns red, and slams the door as he leaves to do his chores.
In my Shadow Life I kill the bird;
feel remorse in the violent act;
grieve for the bird and for the child's lost innocence -
then I take myself in my arms and love me fiercely for my humanness.
And I love my experience for its ancient wisdom.
Monday, January 22, 2007
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