Ancient Soul, Mortal Scars
I do not think of myself as pure.
I’ve been broken too many times.
The illusion of innocence dissolved too early.
I’ve followed so many detours.
Still, the sacred lives in me,
Flows through me, visits me.
I am no less divine for having
Chosen to attend forbidden feasts.
A warrior’s path is often dark.
Twisted. Filthy. Brutal.
Anger grows in brambles of fear.
Good and evil bleed into each other.
My life is a flawed painting,
A sculpture with few polished edges.
Raw. Strange. Wild.
Rebellious. Unpredictable.
But stars grace the inky night.
Art is born of pain.
The light of my ancient soul
Shines through these mortal scars.
Original writing by Katrina Ariel.
This poem was inspired by someone’s off-hand comment on social media. They said something about things being clear to the pure of heart. And I think everyone is pure on some level—we’re all divine beings, even those who have forgotten this truth.
But at the same time, our human experience is messy. We make All The Mistakes. We hate ourselves for them, sometimes, and forgiveness can be elusive. We hold grudges that only hurt ourselves, or bury fears because we don’t know how to face them.
I don’t think the ideals that are placed on us by any outside source (religion, society, etc.) are helpful when they result in guilt and shame. Who am I to say that one person is worthy and another is not? I don’t know their stories, I don’t know the hardships they’ve seen.
I’d like to share a couple of lines that ultimately got edited out of this poem:
Perseverance is honed from hardship.
Mistakes cut wisdom from the stone of ignorance.
As a recovering perfectionist, I have a hard time accepting myself when I make mistakes, yet as a mother, I know this is how we learn. This is how we grow.
I remain convinced that no matter how dirty and lost we get in our human adventure, no matter how hidden our essence becomes, our souls, our spirits, will never be less pure than the clearest, brightest star.
Top photo by John Fowler/Unsplash
Love it!
I am no less divine for having
Chosen to attend forbidden feasts.
A warrior’s path is often dark.
Twisted. Filthy. Brutal.
You remind me of a book I love,
Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype by Clarissa Pinkola Estés
De ja vous - I'm pretty sure we talked about this book a few years back. :)
I read this book so long ago. Lots of wisdom here. I especially love this second bit you've quoted. So much yes!
And thank you for the kind comment on my poem. So glad you like it. :)
So beautiful, yes it is our pain and suffering, our scars that fill us up and create the fire that burns so bright within us all. The fire that fuels our creative self, so necessary in our lives. You really put this across so beautifully, thank you for this, I think it speaks for so many of us. Lets celebrate our beautiful warrior flaws xxxxx
Yes indeed. Celebrate them, honour them, recognize them as part of our imperfectly-perfect journey. 🤗
I am no less divine for having
Chosen to attend forbidden feasts.
Oh I do love that!! 😍
The idea that our divinity could be contingent on our puny little actions shows how small thinking we mostly are.
YES! Exactly this. Thank you for the kind comment, my friend. Keep being you! ❤️
Every failure is an accomplishment if recognition of the failure and will to improve is there. Otherwise it is just as you say - ignorance. Love this as I can relate on just about every level you share. Except, you know - the mother part. But, I am a daddy so, ya know, got that goin for me. Much love Princess and well done. 🤗😇
Indeed! Thanks for the love. Right back at'cha.
Nicely done, so much truth in your words... All our actions made us who we are and there is no good without bad so we should just embrace our mistakes because that's how we grow.
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