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Rays

( The bedroom in which mother died...)

By Kat JanickaPublished 2 years ago 1 min read
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The bedroom in which mother died had 4 entrances:

A huge sliding door and enormous windows, all wooden.

A double door to the attic, where the smell of fresh laundry was overtaking yet also a bit scary and the hatch - above the steps on the wall, where my toys used to live;

which probably killed her.

My guide is a little girl from a past life.

She is wearing a white dress, playing outside the house.

On the journey into the cave I’m inside of the cell of my own body, it seems like I’m in the liquid, maybe some holy water.

The voice asks to go to the dark places ...

And I think this is so predictable in the fairytail, that voice, that cave and then

I see the spider, it’s almost cliche but still terrifying. Hairy, black, ancient.

I’m scared but I’m touching:

Spiders symbolize Maya - Illusion as per Hindu Mythology.

'Grandmother Spider brings a piece of the sun and is the Keeper of the Alphabet.'

- Navajo Indians believed that the spider’s web is very similar to the sun and its rays.

The spider brings me shame, shame to see her dying inside of me, to have her insight. That I am her somehow or I'm being her from time to time, that with age I see her in myself more of the darkness, the suffering.

Now I'm in that room, she is long gone.

I'm in her bed with the notebook written line to line "I hate my daughter’ and it feels mean;

(decades of therapy and studying folklore and myths is not letting me fully go there, there is a level to their meta-level. They say it's not easy to forgive but it’s too easy for me.)

Her darkness which I'm ashamed of is inside of me. Do I accept it now?

Her darkness whitened the father.

I'm an adult. I’m an adult spider, female .. but I want to run away from the spider too.

Run away - I hear.

Who wants to be important? Who is still talking?

The little girl in a white dress comes from different times. I think I recognize her now.

She is in India, no maya here but also there are no parents to be seen.

She is content,

there is no one around. No cave, no spider. Just sun. Rays.

surreal poetry
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About the Creator

Kat Janicka

Katarzyna Janicka is a Brooklyn based writer born in Silesia, Poland. Janicka teaches yoga and meditation.

Janicka graduated from Jagiellonian University in Krakow, Poland (MA in Slavic Studies and MFA in Creative Writing).

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