Look at the Serpent Biting you

“If you want to be healed, you must look at the thing biting you.” His  voice resonated calmly like he was patiently explaining something to a child. Is that how God feels? I thought. We run around with serpents and then cry for a bandaid when he already has a remedy posted in bronze. 

 

Today she said I reach out sexually when I don’t feel safe. “Don’t confuse safety.” What a mess. Has this always been my refuge? A false shelter of temporary safety that falls apart and ultimately leaves me exposed to the elements? Rain seeping through my skin and streaking strands of hair to my face and I can’t even open my eyes without taking in dense drops. Sigh. Breathe in like Leah’s yoga class and get real, real really down to the business of me. Exhale. Let grains of sand sift through and look at what is left. A snakebite. Somehow in downward dog I can take it in curiously and objectively, like its not part of my body. 

Just as I am, without One plea. My dad said that is true. God I know it is. Thank you. You are the rain. Help me know which is the bronze serpent and which is the real thing. Wash away the serpents that bite me. To look at yourself and your snakebites and your serpents is ugly so get ready girl.

I close my eyes and move the pose. My body is settling into itself; movements melt into each other. I flex my toes and draw fresh oxygen into my lungs, my chest rises to receive it. I am aware of you, heart. I hope you are aware of me.