Awake on our bed she mourns your non-life,
my treasure, your only child whose light you’ve been stifling.
She prays your soul sees it is time to let go.
You’re four years bedridden now, you think it’s just months,
the rest disappeared in your chemical gloom,
disaster you’ve chosen to bring on yourself
by keeping your husband an instrument of doom.
He made his exit a year ago, and nothing has changed.
If you follow him now, no more scraps for us. Still…
I wish you could hear about these souls I have found again
and feel our secret, essence ethereal that helps us not wither,
but no dearie, I cannot make any Moneten out of that either
or secure me a nice pension for over half of my life
and just be a human puppet or puppeteer alike.
Your decay is maddening, girl, your wounds never heal,
but being served is your heaven, your trick to feel real.
Unbearable emptiness is all you have known.
You’ve drifted too far from your heavenly home
and pain is all you have given us. But you know it; I do.
Of course I do, baby girl. You do feel my love.
I cannot withhold it, despite all you’ve done.
Just know there’s no way you can go on using it
against your abused daughter as your proof of self-worth.
I never offered you excuses; won’t do it henceforth.
If you still think she can make you feel good in this world,
think again. There’s nothing of her to be drained any more.
Love is shared freely; cannot be obtained by ruthless control.
Your child’s only maternal love provider was your own Mutti.
You kept her away, fading in pain, deprived of her sacred duty,
which she handed over to me, because she saw me and knew.
I’m too small, though, you know, to undo all this chaos you disown.
You’ll meet your Mom soon; she’ll help you see clearly.
She’ll show you what we felt as we silently walked hand in hand, she and I,
a loving old lady and a hopeful young lad on that fragrant spring day by the Rhine.
Through you she will see that her torch still burns strong in this agelessly bright heart of mine.
You’ve done all you could. There’s no turning back.
Nothing to gain from more traumas and ruin.
You had to create your own hell of resentment
to finally feel you are loved for who you are.
Forgiveness is all you deserve for my part.
Feel safe to fade from here; bless us from afar.
A windfall and off we must. We’re done here. Enough.
Leon of SolitaryThinkers, May 2015
Now so much depends on this devouring mother, mother-in-law, sister and aunt realizing that she has really done all she could this time around, that she has received everything that she deserved and more from three generations in two countries, that she is finally not only accepted for who she is and had to become, but totally forgiven and unconditionally embraced beyond all illusions.
This summer we will be largely away with her in her small town and haunted apartment. Her accomplice-in-abuse-against-Plutonia-their-own-and-only-common-child husband had ended up so utterly disgusted, he had been drugging and neglecting her for so long, that she had been rendered practically non-existent for the system, which left us confronted with a ton of obligations to fulfill in order to satisfy both the Greek and the German authorities. But no legality-restoring actions and no sacrifices on anyone’s part can grant this woman a real presence in this world.
Our job there will not be just empty paperwork, but mainly timelessly hard soul work. Her soul will have to lovingly recognize that her lingering in this toxically oblivious existence is worse than getting lost in the very realm of Hades; for herself and for the two of us and for quite a few more members of all our soul groups. A divinely-guided decision on her part to depart peacefully in her sleep before this summer is over, is crucial for the reverent honoring of many contracts on both sides of the veil.
”One Last Goodbye” and ”Back In Time’
are the culminating tracks
of Seventh Wonder’s
concept album Mercy Falls.
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