I'm Fine

I miss being fine. I would love to be great. You know, when people casually ask you how you are doing, and you say “I’m fine, thanks. How are you?” It is just a greeting. People don’t really want to know if you are NOT fine. So sometimes, if it is a person I don’t know well, I just go ahead and lie.

It isn’t that I mean to be untruthful. The truth is just too complex and too sad and to wearisome to tell. I’m not so fine these days. But I am well, I suppose.

I’m clinging to my cosmic egg theory. I am nesting and keeping this precious, delicate thing warm until it hatches and I get to become acquainted with the nascent universe inside.

The truth is, I don’t really know what I am becoming. The pain of surviving nursing school and losing Little A and all the other hurtful things I am enduring now may be making me into a goddess or a monster. Or both. I am more ferocious now, but I am also more tender now. I cry more, but I also laugh more.

I was telling a friend yesterday that all the weak and useless things in my life are falling away. We are nursing students, so we are learning to be like firefighters in that we run into the crisis when others are running out. We face down the blood and viscera of other people unflinchingly. That is shaping me emotionally, as well. I am learning to see people much more clearly, and by extension, myself.

I know what I want. I want to bed down in hot coals. I want to howl at the moon. I want to make the world tremble when I roar. I also want to hear the whispers in silence. I want to cradle precious love in my hands. I want to heal. I want to be able to rest my head somewhere safe.

I can’t fall apart. If I can survive being hollowed out by grief, then I can be a vessel to contain joy. If I can avoid filling myself with anger and bitterness, I can fill with the appreciation of all of life’s small, almost indiscernible moments of beauty and truth. That is what happy looks like to me. Then I will be beyond fine. I will be transcendent, incandescent, and very, very good.

Poetry-Descent

Red

At the Red Gate I descended
I descended through the Red Gate.
My ear opened to the great below
I abandoned my temples in the upper world.

At the Red Gate I relinquished my crown.
To pass the door this was required.
Taken from me my crown of horns,
Symbol of my holy reign.

In queenship my holy womb did ache.
Expelled the planted seeds upon the earth
And fallow did the furrows lie
Whilst in the Red Gate I remained.

Orange

At the Orange Gate I descended
I descended through the Orange Gate.
Further in and spiraling down
With naked head I touched the door.

At the Orange gate I gave small lapis beads.
From my queenly neck they took them.
To pass the door to the great below
No adornment for my holy neck.

In sorrow did the faithful starve
As the storehouse started to empty.
No bread in the roaring ovens.
No bread for my priestesses' table.

Yellow

At the Yellow Gate I descended
I descended through the Yellow Gate.
In golden glow I proceeded
With naked neck I pressed it open.

At the Yellow Gate my double strand
From my breast the beads I gave.
Relinquished without reason save this:
"The ways of the underworld are perfect."

In my descent the farmers lament,
Tear at their hair in fear and grief.
Though they long for my embrace
They must wait for my return.

Green

At the Green Gate I descended
I descended through the Green Gate.
My double strand beads left behind
I moved toward the heart of the dead.

My breastplate called "come, man, come"
Was removed and pulled from my grasp
But the ways of the underworld are perfect
They may not be questioned.

In lust, men lay with their wives
But they would long in vain for sons,
And daughters denied, their hearts wept
For Inanna to return.

Blue

At the Blue Gate I descended
I descended through the Blue Gate.
Breasts exposed, with heavy heart
I could hear the endless voices.

The gold ring at my holy wrist
Was cast away from me.
With my ear cast to the great below
I heard the lamentations of the dead.

This far in, the living world
Cried out unheard as I focused below.
With each gate I passed under
Their hold on me grew fainter.

Indigo & Violet

At the Indigo Gate I descended
I descended through the Indigo Gate.
With naked hands, empty fingers
I felt the first taste of fear.

My final raiment as I entered in,
My royal robe was removed.
I was judged as a mortal woman
The eye of death fastened to my skin.

She who goes to the Dark City Stays there.
But compassion for my tormentor spared me.
From my wrathful sister I was delivered
And given the food and water of life.

White

I returned to the Upper World
At my temples my priestesses dressed like beggars
In single soiled garments, they wailed
They threw themselves at my feet.

But Dumuzi, who danced upon my knee
Did not move from his jeweled throne.
In grief I cast him to the Great Below
Where they gashed him with axes of stone.

His cries for Justice were heard.
His tears allowed his escape.
Demons who accept neither food nor drink
Could not hold his snakelike limbs.

Black

Through many Gates I descended
I descended through many Gates.
And I returned to timbrels and dances,
Though I lost my cherished love.

I regained my royal robe,
My beads of lapis lazuli,
My golden ring, my horned crown,
My breastplate called "come, man, come"

Now half the year my heart laments
Though gifts aplenty I give to man.
Lost innocence for the wisdom gained.
Lost kisses for what I now understand.

(c) Stacie Ferrante
12-3-08

Poetry-Goddess of Love and War

I drive the tempest before me
Chaos swirls in my wake
But in the eye of the wailing winds
I tremble sometimes and long for calm.

Always so happy making trouble
And loving fiercely, each in turn
Laying my hands on those who linger
But guarding my heart with poison words.

With a knowing smile and curving hips
I'll draw you close to examine you
Testing with my tongue as soft as a moth
For chinks in your armor that could undo you.

No one stays my equal for long
As I drive myself like a weary sled dog.
No one can get me to rest and dream
So they wave goodbye to my sorrow shaken back.

I will pause for gentle love;
Strong as earth and fierce as fire.
Sweep me into arms brave enough to hold me
Unbuckle my chariot and let the lions free.

I'll always need a heroic friend,
A place for my gaze other than the horizon.
I'll entreat you in the morning to remain
To soothe me into soft repose once more.

Withstand me as I wash over you
Give me an unbreachable fortress
And I'll lean my back against yours
And make my stand against the world.

Someday they'll tire of their trebuchets,
Leave the misty mountain to its mysteries
And you and I shall toast and boast,
And decide for ourselves what to conquer next.

(c) Stacie Ferrante
12-2-08