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talking to myself

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Dark anima


markdohle

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Upon a throne severe she sits,

Made of stone enduring,

The color of ancient bone

Stable,

Unmovable,

Clothed in grey, her face set, stern.

Buffeted by life’s sorrows and tragedies,

Passing the test that endurance brings.

The sword in her hand, not for battle against others,

If wisdom has been attained.

Rather a symbol of discernment cutting through illusion,

Leading to compassion that is seen in her eyes,

By those with the courage to engage.

Wisdom comes from the embracing of life,

Overcoming fear, bitterness, rage, and the desire for revenge.

Her scars and sufferings are her glory,

Her compassion and empathy her healing.

For women often a reality,

Men an archetypal figure to embrace if balance is to be achieved,

Allowing inner wisdom to flow.

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