“Feral Girl” a painting from Maude

In understanding how my alter states of being channel through me, I understand that Vennie, me the writer/artist, is the most prevalent existence. She presents on behalf of the sisters. So Vennie got the urge to paint tonight and in a couple of hours this painting emerged.

I was recalled to the young girl in the Alaska tundra so many years ago and how much nature pulled her through despair. She loved to draw horses and felt a deep connection with them. She flew away and rode horses in the worst of times, long before she ever rode a real horse, save the brief “on the pony in a cowboy hat” photo taken when she was 2. She knew how to navigate her way through the terror somehow. What a skilled little girl she was.

I feel Madge healing; really getting more and more integrated into Maude, and that feels rather calming.

And then there’s Maude, but we won’t go there now. 😜

Here is her painting, “Feral Girl”. It feels like a self portrait, how Maude sees herself as Madge, as a teenager, as well as who she is in her dimension. A gothic, yet beautiful soul, trying to find her way back home.

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What Is This Place?

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What is this space,
This place,
This girl I see
Looking back at me
Buried in the aftermath
A hovel of human rubble?

I am the past
In the now,
And I don’t know how
To make phrases
Out of unseen faces
Or words out of
Voices unheard.

I grip screaming in my belly.
There’s been a
Hell put on me,
And it isn’t written
On frail paper
In black ink
By pink skinned kings.

No.

It is a reality
Punching my skin
From a cave
Within my being,
So translucent, so thin
It requires science
To sort through the evidence.

The fluctuating strength
Floats on my lips
In smiles that
Leave strangers
Wanting a glimpse
Into a mystery
They perceive
Until they peer the darkness
Where the scars live
Then scamper like thieves
Pocketing pieces of me.

A glance inside my caves
Walls of Hieroglyphics
Pictures of mystics
Burned at the stake,
Memories of my forsaken
Carved in scripted lines
The lies, the invasions,
Tombs filled with
What was taken.

Before this midnight bell
Tolls its passive gong
To the throngs who bow
In the hopes their devotion
Will ease their heavy load,
As they leave a
Portion for the dying
There will be an absolution
Presented as confusion,
And I am fully
Aware of this fusion.

Light and Dark
Have always fought
To be apart
A split heart soaked
With bloody teardrops,
Because the weeping
Won’t stop.

In this dance of understand
When energy is abandoned
For the loss of hope,
There’s no satisfaction as
I nurse the rabid tears
Dripping from my chin,
An indication
I’m feeling it all again.

But that is my journey
To take or forsake
And I can’t pause to wait.
The sky beings are here
Beckoning me to
Walk forward
Absent of fear.

© venniekocsis.com