The Labyrinth of Life:
as seen through the eyes of a late thirty-something child of the '80s, on a cold winter night in New England
Hey y'all. Super queer femme child of the '80s here. I grew up watching The Labyrinth, My Little Pony, The Last Unicorn, Legend, Dirty Dancing, Exorcist, and Poltergeist, among other things. Sesame Street was also my jam, and my sister held down the Mr. Rogers fan club, so I occasionally ventured into the Neighborhood of Make-Believe with her.
Long story short, I'm pretty well-versed in the problematic programs that many of us cuspy Millenials consumed regularly, and find an odd comfort in watching these movies and shows over and over again. Yes, I'm in therapy, and yes I'm unpacking my childhood trauma and reconnecting in loving and healthy ways with my inner children.
Speaking of unpacking, here's a lil piece I spewed while rewatching The Labyrinth for the umpteenth time. It was a cold winter night in New England, several days into a trip back east to visit family and I was feeling it.
I had curled my 25-year-old body on the futon in my Dad's den alongside a bowl of popcorn and my journal. The following poem fell out of me as I journeyed with Sarah, Hoggle, Ludo, Didymus and Ambrosius on that particular night:
Traversing the labyrinth
of life
|
Learning lines of communication
taking things for granted:
|
Breath
Heartbeats
Laughter
|
Straight lines and right angles
bend with ease
lifting veils of deception
|
Lipstick marks on concrete
directing me in circles
saving me
In search of the goblin babe
that lives within
|
Entering doorways to certain death
guarded by two-headed liars
|
Encountering hurtful hands
disguised as kind carriers
|
Letting go
down to the oubliette
to the dwarf puppet
who shall lead me back to
the beginning
of my journey
but I refuse to be misled
|
I persuade with precious plastic
because I know better
|
I know that there is more
so I let the headstones babble
because it is a piece of cake
|
A sickeningly sweet
razor-sharp
soul-devouring
slice
Illusions, delusions
intrusions, conclusions
it's all the same
|
The bog of atlantic stench
is a constant threat
an inevitable destination
|
But that's the way it is
|
I am learning to (dis)trust the white-bearded man
with a bird on his head:
|
The way forward is sometimes
the way back
|
Sparing meaningfulless diamonds
en route to greener arches
The labyrinth lingers
as friends fear forward motion
|
Stumbling upon seemingly scary monsters
suspended in mid-air
|
Trusting intuition
I set that beast free
|
13 o-clock looms
as I search for the ground
in a forest unfamiliar
|
Territory for the taking
of heads, limbs, minds
not mine
|
I will not allow this
constant threat of throwing heads
|
Kissing my way down to the bog
timing is off
gestures of kindness
reap unwanted results
|
So I seek out bridges
in the final hour
and search for that common language
remembering to ask for what I need
|
"May we have your permission"
to cross the ancient
crumbling bridge
towards our destination
|
Calling on ancient stones and
rock friends
accepting poisonous fruit
|
Because hunger hurts
and fruit is sweet
so luscious and luring
Dancing, trancing my way
into a dream on the forest floor
as companions march forward
|
I am suspended in slumber
|
Portrait of a pale jewel
managing massive movements
retrograde masquerade footprints
in the sands of time
|
Shaking silver sparkles
shattering shards of glass
stumbling, sifting through my compost heap
|
Back to my home
my world
my life
|
The journey forgotten
Led by a woman with the weight
of her world
on her shoulders
|
Back-breaking, heart aching
I sit as she piles layers and layers
of my material life
|
The rest is nightmare
|
I am scared but she helps me to forget
what I was searching for
|
The rest is junk
|
I tear down the walls in a fury
or rage and defeat
and move forward
Propelled by the realization
that I must continue the journey
in the company of passionate
supportive individuals
|
The goblin guard is an illusion
an intrusion into my space
not a conclusion of my travels
|
It's all smoke and mirrors in the end
a little man operating
a large machine
|
Learning to forgive
courageous friends
who take massive leaps
of faith
|
You can call out your guards
hide the baby
fire your cannons
attempt to delay the inevitable
|
I am a force
oceans stirring inside of me
moon cycles guiding me
|
I can fight and scream and kick
but it will do no good
the child still remains
The final destination
is the child within
climbing stairways to nowhere
just out of our grasp
|
It is love that led me here
and love that will lead me
forward
|
Shifting focus
the message blurry
|
I stumble on words
buried deep within my core
|
I open my eyes and remember
the journey
|
Twists and turns
lessons I've learned
soulmates I've earned
bridges I've burned
|
I don't care if you've rewired time
if you've given me everything
you think
I want
you think
I need
|
With all of the love in my heart
in my soul
to the depths
of my being
|
In this shifting
ever-changing
consciousness
we are encountering
|
I speak the truth I know:
"Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the goblin city to take back the child that you have stolen. For my will is as strong as yours and my kingdom as great... YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ME."
|
The spell is broken
I am free
to live
to laugh
to love
|
To continue the journey
through the labyrinth
of life.
About the Creator
Sur Ren Dirt (she/they)
Write now I'm plaaaying with words.
And also, I need a little support: https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/rendirt
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