i stood before the goddess
bare. naked. my ugliness and shame and all the ways i missed the mark exposed to her
and i surrendered.
there was no need for apology. no need for forgiveness. she simply accepted me and loved me. i curled up — she held me. and i fell asleep.
then when i awoke, i was young again. i was me again. she smoothed over the blemishes and scar tissue and wounds and every physical sign of fatigue and what i had gone through and all i had done. my hands looked like they’d never worked a day in their life; i was quickly forgetting the hurt they had caused in a previous life, one that was quickly dissipating from my memories.
she saw my heart. that was enough. she saw my intentions. that was enough. “it does not matter how much sickness,” she told me, “has spread throughout your body.
“If there is but one portion of you that is still possessed of health, one portion of you with love pure and untainted, the whole can be saved.
“Remember this when you wonder why Mother Earth hasn’t wiped humanity off the face of the planet already.
“On the scales of the cosmos, one act of selfless love can bring balance to thousands of acts of selfish injustice.”
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 