‘Do not be afraid to suffer,
give the heaviness back to the weight of the Earth.’
– Rilke
There was once a time, when the sky turned black
and Kali rose to her feet.
Shrieking and laughing, she spat:
‘Who do you think you are, to try and follow me here?’
From the darkness Sita answered:
‘All I am, is strength and love.’
She’d broken the curse and walking on, carried this answer with her always.
She grew to be the holding quality of love, the womb.
And so, for many millennia, gave men refuge inside her.
Cold, they drew warmth from her skin,
Rough, they healed through her softness.
She gave all she had, no less
they received,
and so she was.
Until, one day when for no reason at all, Durga chose to shift the winds.
From no where, they blew to Sita a gentle:
‘Enough.’
There was a pause and tremble, as somewhere, a gift was rescinded,
a tether severed.
And so, the ground rose to meet her.
Back into the earth,
her heart sank down,
finally becoming
my own.
