The Descent
Underworld journey
Break me for transformation
Rebirthed like springtime
Lying Naked, on the Floor, on the Wall
Come with me as a witness on this journey to the underworld. THE underworld. MY underworld. Into the darkest areas of the self. Into the anima mundi. First, see how I stand here so regally on these crunchy, autumn leaves in all shades of gold, crimson, matching the sapphired, rubied adornments, my jewels in my crown. Jewels that have created my identity. The colors of ambergris spewed from beautiful monsters with their golden hued eyes like a cat looking at me in the sun. I cannot yet face the sun without shame even here now as I stand in my queendomness. The sun does not fortify me as I am now, it ravagely savagely burns instead.
Less of me and more of her
I am tired, this grief has me stuck like dried sap on trees, going nowhere and slowly being eaten away by insects. I am a feast for those who want power over me, those who want to bring me to a state of unconsciousness so i am ripe for their selfish solitary pleasure, i am stripped, lying naked on the floor, Natalie says torn. My skin is torn, my pride is torn, my brain is broken, humiliation is what surrounds me now. These damaged wings are not strong enough to lift me away from here, I am so heavy, my heart is so heavy, my core a solid lump of osmyum.
Less of me and more of her
Descending down down down, a downward spiral, feet heavy as i pull them from being stuck like on flypaper, it’s the sap bleeding from each cracked step. Vulture of ares, i beg, come and take my meaty bloody body that has been put upon this hook. Exposed, exploited, ashamed, completely unadorned. I cry out for transformation!
Less of me and more of her
I know i must be broken, I must strip away these jewels, these pieces of adornment, stripping away disillusionment. I am the only one who can save myself. Leaving part of myself on that hook, i dissociate for seven years but return because I need integration for healing. So I return and take that bloody chunk of flesh from the hook and kiss it gently and sweetly. This piece of me is the most disgusting part of myself, dripping pus and blood, gangrened and rotting, stench is the only aroma. I kiss it tenderly and lovingly. Letting it know that it is beautiful in all its horror while holding it like preciousness in my broken hands.
Less of me and more of her
I take my naked, broken self, and all my rotting parts deeper, further into the darkness and continue this descent, to the end, to the limits of the underworld. In the ether, words start to appear, floating down like dead leaves, the fall leaves. Words that have been held in my core: bad, dirty, unclean, used, worthless. The self I try so hard to hide is now exposed. The words are there but barely seen because it is the darkness that surround me as I descend. The words are faint but strong. I finally reach the end of the stairway.
Less of me and more of her
Before me, luminescence starts to make itself known, appearing down a long corridor which calls to me. As i walk towards, it’s still unclear. There is a hazy atmosphere like the sun is shining its rays highlighting the gold particles in the air but there is no sun, just the strengthening glow of light and i realize, that light is coming from me, calling me to a throne. The light invites me to sit and be regal here in this dark place. I hear words, pianissimo, like a distant drip of cool, healing waters.
Less of me and more of her.
“Listen to who you really are and believe, you have been stripped and arrived at this place without identity. Trauma is no longer your identity because you are not longer a victim. You are victrice!”
Less of me and more of her.
This edict is on repeat coming from an area so far away, first as a whisper then louder until I realize it is not coming from afar, it is coming from within. I reclaim my power! I am victrice!
Less of me and more of her.
The rotting meat I’ve held in my hands becomes new again, it melds into my unbroken essence. I am renewed, stronger, unbreakable, unstoppable. I’ve incorporated these jeweled words into my heart, step off the throne to return. I start my climb a step at a time and kick the ancient stone tablets that read me who I was on the way down. I kick them with such force they shatter and do not even hurt my bare feet.
Less of me and more of her.
Launching those broken pieces into my own galaxy as bright stars in my own heaven. As I claim-climb higher, every seven steps there are new words replacing what was on each step during my descent. Worthy, clean, strong, whole! Victrice! I have returned like springtime, but no longer like a dandelion that loses parts of itself with the breeze. I stand strong like a sunflower now, facing the light. I have nothing to hide anymore. I am renewed as beautiful, unadorned, and unashamed before my gods.
Thank you #NaPoWriMo for this healing prompt: And now for our daily prompt – optional, as always. Anne Carson is a Canadian poet and essayist known for her contemporary translations of Sappho and other ancient Greek writers. For example, consider this version of Sappho’s Fragment 58, to which Carson has added a modern song-title, enhancing the strange, time-defying quality of the translation. And just as many songs do, the poem directly addresses a person or group – in this case, the Muses. Taking Carson’s translation as an example, we challenge you to write a poem that directly addresses someone, and that includes a made-up word, an odd/unusual simile, a statement of “fact,” and something that seems out of place in time (like a Sonny & Cher song in a poem about a Greek myth).
From the author: Not too long ago, I started sharing my haiku consistently on BlueSky and have found it to be such a healing, centering, and grounding practice. In fact, my tagline is “finding peace 17 syllables at a time”. Today’s prompt inspired me to think of myth and the power of it. One of my favorite’s is the Descent of Innana. With this piece today, I mixed in a bit of the song Torn by Natalie Imbruglia. The practice and art of poetry is like my own descent and connection to the divine. I will always be grateful for it’s transformative energy. Allowing myself to be even more vulnerable than usual while writing this piece was simultaneously freeing and strengthening. I hope you enjoyed reading about this journey. Thank you for taking the time.
Your comments are appreciated: What healing have you experienced from creating poetry? Is there a poem or myth that has helped put you back together again, too? Please feel free to share. Sending all the good vibes to you, wonderful reader.
WhatsHerName Writes 