Healing Gaia

This piece was created as an answer to the prompt: "Write about your favorite poem".
My favorite poem has been Mother to Son by Langston Hughes since the sixth grade.
A copy of that poem can be found at the end of my writing.

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Looking down at my belly,
I see the stretched skin staring back at me.
White marks that run parallel to the place where you laid.
I think of my womb that cradled you

and kept you safe.

Now I hold you in my arms with fear.
Scared to show you to the world. 
Afraid of what you might find there,
or what might find you.

I see your face and am reminded of the splinters on my feet 
and the boards torn up in my childhood.
Hoping you never have to feel this hurt on yours.
Hoping you will be

reachin’ landin’s

and turnin’ corners 
to places accepting of you.

I realized a bit too late,

it feels, 
that I need to remove the tacks laid in to my cork board heart. 
The work feels endless.
The only way out is through, 
I'm reminded, 
but laying myself bare like floors with no carpet on them 
makes me want to run.
I can't turn back from this healing though;
It's good for us,

even when I find it kinda hard.

I wonder if one day you will ever know that I kept climbin’ on.
Wincing from my scratched feet in the dark. 
Arms open wide to the sky; 
tired from the weight of the prayers I say,

hoping you will always see the light in life.

Sweet child, 
I tell you,
life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
I’ve learned though,

no matter who you are 
It won’t ever be.
Even so, I work everyday in hopes that it can be as close to crystal 

for you.

______________________________________________________________________________

Mother to Son

By: Langston Hughes

Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps
’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now—
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

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Sevilla

Visualization is often defined as any technique for creating images to communicate a message.

Today I want to take you on a journey.

Come with me to Seville, Spain.

The year is 2011.

You just got off a Ryan Air flight from Barcelona.

Admittedly, it is the European equivalent to Spirit Airlines but you’re 20 years old, on spring break, and in the middle of a semester long journey exploring Europe for the first time.

Who has the funds to spend on a better flight, right?

The airport is bustling.

Filled with people trying to make it out of town for the spring break festivities because in this country, which is devoutly Catholic, the break coincides with Holy Week.

You happened to arrive on the day of the Lord’s last supper, Holy Thursday.

& if you didn’t know anything about Holy Week, all you need to understand is that Holy Thursday is when the real festivities begin.

You’ve heard all about the parades that go on in Seville and you’re excited to see it all.

The hype beats hit you as you press play on your ipod nano (2nd generation) to hear the sounds of Party Rock Anthem by LMFAO come on.

It’s the right kind of energy you need to follow all signs intently to the metro.

You walk quickly towards your destination because even though you’re fluent in the language, it’s all still so unfamiliar.

You don’t have the words for it yet but you are moving as if your life depends on getting to your hostel right that second.

Anxiety is setting in as you see the crowds of people walking towards the train.

Heart racing.

Eyes darting back and forth .

then finally,

a sigh of relief.

You hop on to the correct train as you focus on the words “everybody just have a good time” blazing through your headphones.

You navigate to your stop only to realize that there is a parade going on right next to your hostel.

The streets are flooded with people in pointed hooded masks and colorful robes.

They’re carrying elaborate floats containing religious statues of things like the Virgin Mary and Christ on the cross.

You can’t see any faces but you are blinded by all the gold draping the floats.

Slowly, you are making your way through groups of families and friends because you want to see the details.

The intensity in the eyes of the devotees, the markings on the hooded masks, the crests some of the robes contain, the carved wood of the float holders, the gold fabrics, the velvet carpets, the faces of statues that are angelic but dripping in jewels.

The grandeur of it all.

You are reminded of the effort and passion it takes to get every detail right.

As you make your way through the crowd you suddenly realize, there is no way you are moving anywhere anytime soon.

The hostel is right around the corner but its been an hour and you’ve barely made it 3 feet from the metro station.

Acceptance.

You look over at the person selling random candies and snacks and hand them two euros as you say, gracias (thank you)!

Ham flavored potato chips and a kinder chocolate bar will have to do for dinner tonight.

This is home for the next few days.

A chaotic collection of people who are celebrating together in the purity of their renowned traditions.

You let out a big grin because it’s only been a few hours since you got to Seville and guess what?

You love it already!

XoXo Stephy

Thank you so much for spending some time visualizing Seville with me. 

Let me know in the comments if you liked this method of storytelling!

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