There I was sitting on the fence. It was a golden gate or pen or corral – at first it was crowded with people from my last job who misheld my trust, my mom and sister were there for sure.
As soon as the gates opened – I wanted everyone to be free. I don’t want to corral anyone. I want people to be happy, to live their lives. I noticed I had a hard time leaving the corral – or like a funhouse with mirrors the corrals open gate led to another with more locks, chains, reinforced steel. Maybe that wasn’t me sitting on the edge of the fence – maybe it was one of my guides – a young boy – dressed in blue jeans and a red shirt with cowboy boots on – a few sizes too big… maybe borrowed from a dad, or uncle or big brother.
There he was, just there, swinging his legs – not talking, not commanding, not doing really much of anything – just swinging his legs against the fence and kind of looking sideways, into the corral.
I wasn’t fully formed in the visualization in my mind – it was sort of what you might notice in your peripheral vision but not if you are ‘looking’ to your peripheral.
I think he was looking down, waiting. Waiting for me to be able to forgive myself. Waiting for my inner child to say, “Oh, hey – I’m no monster. I’m just a kid looking for love who wants to slide down gravel piles and get her green OshKosh B’gosh corduroy pants dirty – stained so deeply from gravel bum that her mom won’t let her wear them again.
She wants to sneak onto cow farms with her friend and hide behind rocks so farmers can’t find her.
where rivers are born 