I drove around with the basket full of aprons in the back of my car.  for weeks.  for years.  For an entire life.time, really.  It's been so hard.  This. Letting Go.  And so around and around we went, driving around, moving around, walking.  around.  my basket full of aprons.  My dreams.  My coverings. and me, my life, and time, unraveling at the seams.  It hasn't been so much of a letting go, though.  as much as it has been a. Being. Ripped. From my bloody finger tips.  

So there I was and here I still am trying to hold on to my plans as my aprons, with their ribbons untied. my dreams.  Denied.  my hopes folded up.  Shut up.  And put away.  for good.  Carried away. for me.  in the back of my car.  now emptied.  when once it was so full.

All This. Being. Ripped. from my bloody fingertips. has been and is still so painful that I insist to resist.  And so around and around we went and now we go, my basket full now of Pain, as I am unable to table my dreams, disable my coverings, that have been tabled, and disabled, for good, for me, like so many times before. 

But God.  This. Basket full of Pain has consumed me.  Swallowed me up whole and alive and it will not spit me out.  And now there's nothing left of me, to see. 

I am invisible.

I am the morning in The Mourning.  I am the light in The Night.  I am the leaf after the fall.  There's nothing left, of me, to see.  

I have been de-aproned.  Defrocked.  and mocked.  by the mocking. birds that fly. in the air. thick. with despair.  

I have been unleaved.  Uncovered.  so that I am no longer discovered.  and now here i stand.  In sinking sand.  Unseen.  In the world full of the seen.  I sink. deeper inside the stomach of This. basket of a beast.

where the seen cannot see the unseen.

Processing great loss.  upon loss.  upon loss.  In a land of great abundance. upon abundance.  upon abundance.  Is lonely, isolating, imprisoning.  Invisibling.  

Charlotte Bronte once said, "I think if a good fairy were to grant me the choice of a gift, I would say - grant me the power to walk invisible; though certainly I would add - accompany it by the grace never to abuse the privilege."

This.  Grieving.  My unleaving.  My unbeing.  This unchosen gift. It keeps giving me. Invis-ability.

But being granted the power to walk invisible, in this visible world, being given the gift of invis-ability, doesn't much feel like a power. is not power.  is the antithesis of power.  Invis-ability is an unchosen gift of weakness.  Helplessness.  Hopelessness.  It is Despair. thick, in the air. full of mocking. birds. that mock. when one gets defrocked.  It is Death, un-resurrected. In a resurrection world.  As one is swallowed up whole, and alive, in the belly of the basket full of pain, in a grave full of death.  

The power to walk invisible is not a gift given in the giving up of things and dreams, in fastings.  it is not a gift that is given in the giving away of colorful coverings, in donatings.  This power is a gift granted when it is all ripped.  From bloody fingertips.  That drip. and still trying to hold on, pool, deep blue, in the deep blue depths. where one is drowned.  in pain. stained.  red.  with tears, bled. from years, heavily tread. with loss. upon loss. upon loss. 

Pain.  Deep.  Lasting.  Long.  Unrelenting.  Unstoppable.  Enduring, so that it's no longer deniable and no longer durable.  Pain.  So large that it consumes a life, swallows one whole, alive, makes one, makes me, makes we... wee.  Pain that grows taller and taller, leaving one, leaving me, leaves we, in it's shadow, smaller and smaller.  Until there's nothing left, of me, of we, to see.  And I am, we are.  

Invisible

Beauty

Beauty.  Invisible. because it is swallowed up inside the Pain.  Pain that no one really wants to see, through, because it would mean an entering.  into the Pain. That is unbreakable into.  Unless one is swallowed up, with us, inside the belly of This. basket of a beast.  and so we, wee, remain.  in Pain. Unseen.  Beauty.

I saw an invisible person the other day.  And she saw me.  so briefly.  we.  wee. recognized one another's invisability.  and the unseen. we were briefly seen.  inside the belly of the basket of a beast.  Of Pain.  we.  wee. didn't need words.  didn't have words, through the bled tears, the tread years, to speak.  our ables have long been tabled.  our hopes long disabled.  but what is unseen need not be spoken to be heard.  because we share. Invisability.  Inside this basket full of pain, where we are buried. still.

If you are Invisible, you know what I mean.  you have seen.  what it is to be.  Beauty. Unseen. for the Pain.  

But God.

Will you remember this. Please?   

Charlotte Bronte once said, "I think if a good fairy were to grant me the choice of a gift, I would say - grant me the power to walk invisible; though certainly I would add - accompany it by the grace never to abuse the privilege."     

The power to walk invisible is not a gift granted by a good fairy.  The power to walk invisible is birthed in the womb of The Mourning, is broken forth in the Night without light.  The power to walk invisible is granted only in the death of power.  In the grave of un-resurrected dreams.  in the strippings of our coverings.

It is not a grant found in a good fairy.  It is a grant only found inside the belly of the basket full of pain, when one has been swallowed up whole and alive, and will not be spit out.  It is a privilege granted when one is unseen that one is giving the gift of. Being. Invisible. Beauty.

There are a lot of us swallowed up in here.  In this beast of a basket.  Full.  Of Pain.  Where we remain invisible to the visible world. that unsees us.  Where we sometimes remain invisible even to ourselves.  because we unsee ourselves sometimes too.  because we insist to resist being swallowed up, whole, and alive.  by Pain.  But there's Beauty. Inside Pain.  That one can only see from the inside.  When she is inside.  When he is inside.  When we.  Wee.  are inside.

I now drive around.  Move around.  Walk around.  Without my aprons.  Invisible.  Cloaked, for now, instead in my invisability.  And I am able to see the wee, the we, Invisible.  Beauty.  

But God.

Grant me the grace never to abuse this privilege.  

And eyes that still.  can see.  Invisible.  Beauty.  When I am no longer inside This.  Pain.  

That I might always have Invisability. an ability. to see the unseen.  

That I might retain.  Pain.  Beneath my scars, my thousand silver bars, that I might spend, to enter in. to see.  another's.  Invisible.  Beauty.

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