© Lori Lappin, the Witch of WITCHCRAFTS ARTISAN ALCHEMY®

from the mind inscribed before time in a dreamlike primeval existence
before my life began, at your side, I loved you
set before seeing, witnessing the violent play of creation
rising jagged with twisting thorns ascending toward there
wild and fierce the bloody storm from below, a churning
cold fire and coal
dripping with pain torn from earth, cutting edges
raging from a lawless horror, a terror untamed upon the earth
spreading as a plague coming near with powerful fury
iterating screams, reverberating with dysrhythm
the battering melody shattering the noise of silence
in agony melding together, into a cyclone of spiraling shrill despair
hopeless, the sound of an inky blackness, line upon line writing
a writhing scroll, twisted with affliction, death and blood everywhere
below the colorlessness of the sanctuary where I stood
immobile with the sight
testifying, not forgotten, revealing some wordless cry of terror
embedding beyond the throat, becoming chained in the belly
burning my world, descending into the hallowed depths of my heart
with no way to restrain it, its direction of attraction -
toward me the knife came to cut
please see me! I am here! I cried without sound - to you
as you watched it climb up
as you watched it climb up with some curious, strange fascination
not seeing me, or disregarded, either way
outside your direction of attention
as the rabid destruction erupted up the wall, and
all I could do to escape the blade
becoming broken, I turned away, pulling myself in ... only to be thrown away
thrown down, as a coarse grain into the only history I ever knew, and I know
what you did, throwing me down to be ripped apart
to those who would destroy me
why do you hate me - still
still you don't see me, you don't hear me, and you don't care
try as I might to rewrite the story, I cannot forget the truth
and some things can never be fixed


Do you ever consider that experienced human trauma precedes infancy and early childhood? Most don't remember experiencing it, but I do. Our fathers send us up against a river of fire of churning, annihilating operations where only one of us survives, to end up in a dark initially seemingly empty lonely place. And we are not happy to be there. We know, even then before we have unwound our self, that we are in a very dangerous world. But, as we develop, we begin to perceive friendly voices, the voices written in our DNA, voices within our heads, the voices of our ancestors, the other voices of ourselves, especially the voice of the self contra-sexual to the biological self. In the tradition of my ancestors, this contra-sexual self that journeys with us like a best friend is called the fylgja. I imagine that this contra-sexual self is a construct of the emerging bicameral mind. But, during the process of birth, our best friend can't protect us from the trauma of being born, an experience of profound trauma we carry hidden deep within ourselves throughout life (and this is why I think that most humans may actually at some level CHOOSE not to remember anything until well into early childhood) ... Me, I commanded myself to remember at each step along the way, I deliberately made myself hold on to my story, no matter how ugly it got - and my birth trauma was a nightmare on steroids. If others have experienced the same thing as I have (even if they don't remember it), then I think men and women may see one another as the one who seemingly abandoned them to this life of toil and pain (so this "war between the sexes" has deep, deep roots, deeper than many can even imagine, so deep that it may never be fixed ... THE THORN