The Unweaving

29c9ae68e9d4360d99c807e3342c0f11I see the giant black spider
hanging there

got the world
caught up in its web
woven tight

like one last tasty meal

tucking its treasure
next to all the other worlds
that lost their way

not out of malice
it’s just doing what such creatures do
trying to protect and survive

those inside zipped up
beyond recognition
having wrapped that silky thread
around themselves
for protection

yet in the process
cut off their umbilical cord
to life

listen closely:
you can hear
the cries from within

not cries of help
just cries
of struggle
thrashing about
shadows shining
with compelling textures

so sticky
volatile
cunning

spun from pain and fear
the thickest thread
that binds

and blinds us
trusting in things
that smother
what is authentic

How to Unweave the web?

If I had a sword, I’d cut it down
or slay the beast

If I had a nuclear weapon
I could blow it up
but risk killing everything

Regardless, I’m no solider
I pawned my sword
for a pen and a drum
and a pair of walking shoes

If I were a singer
I would serenade them
perhaps lull them to sleep
to avoid the worst of the suffering
Or at least distract the spider
like some insect-whisperer
some serpent handler

But I’m no singer
My melody would likely enrage it

No, I can’t do anything
The beast can’t be killed

the woven must unspin themselves

All I have are words
and the space between them

Flimsy
pale
whispy
fingers pointing at the moon

no weapon against a beast like that

Would I reason with it?

“Excuse me…but…”

Plead with it?

“Please…for the love of…..”

Threaten it?

“If you don’t cut the thread…”

But with what force to back it up?

No, it is not rational anyway

Nonetheless, I will speak the Unweaving,
my prayer:

To the spider, I say:

Thank you for your service
you are no longer needed
you shall not feed here anymore

To the Woven I say:

Put your ear to the ground
of your own heart
its beat may not be theirs
it is your own precious pulsating rhythm
listen and
honor it

Unweave with a letting go
unearth what is truly yours
and compost what is not
beware the distractions

the thing that hooks you
is your lighthouse
shining on the dark foggy shore

Follow it home
and rest there

Unweave
by taking stock
of what you truly need

Discover what is enough

Unweave by knowing
that you belong here
accept that silent ancient
love poem in your chest
claim it as your birthright

Unweave by giving space
to what lives inside you
without judgment
Rest with yourself
so you can rest with each other

Unweave the spider’s silky prison
one thread at a time

or dissolve it in one giant
blast of fresh air
inhaled from the tender throbbing
center of your being

until the armor
falls away
and you take your first breathe
after coma

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