nobody knows we are here

sometimes, often too—it is harder to find the departure into the soft cocoon 

when like the old trigger is spring loaded and out the jetty, jettisoned it is awhile before I locate what button got tripped ….the barbed wire wrapped around my ankle ….and ohhhh I put it together how we fell through this particular rabbit hole shit, girl—we fucking know better, lose the name; like the ring that choked the forth finger of all blood supply and oxygen with his unjust suspicions and the sticky trail of empty bottles that littered that life from our dark ages —I should have put it together when came the messages in multiples and the breaches into my passwords; why do I even try to ever leave my fucking caves when the predators never give up; a cave to protect, a cave to imprison as we watch only shadows for company; we are lost and nobody will come looking for us, nobody knows we are here

upon some paths today

 

happened upon some deer in a nearby field before the rest of herd took off

 

How my dna memory theory ties to my dictionary; Electra’s dictionary

 

When I was first researching the man who was my illegitimate father, for the longest time, all I ever knew at first about him was what I could find mentioned in history books and periodicals; his political career overshadowed sadly by how the press slammed him and how the government dubbed him intensely as notorious and how he has so often been extremely, and intricately maliciously documented 

But I knew also of his work before he went into politics, his work as a leader in his community as a reverend and later, his well known speeches that laid the groundwork for labor laws and workers rights, what he did in congress; his speeches can still be found all over YouTube and the internet. Of course I knew that he was the forefather of the civil rights movement

But I never suspected the dark roots went beyond his notoriety  never thought there could be much more worth looking into beyond the early struggles of his father’s early life as a young man struggling to find his own way. A way that…. lead back from the tobacco plantation of Virginia; a half breed whose mother was a Cherokee squaw concubine of a decorated confederate general whose father was a powerful plantation owner and slave owner. The general died on the battlefield and the pregnant squaw was tossed but was taken in by the man who became his step father and married the squaw and was by then a freed slave who brought him up as his own among the sons and daughters who later came to the freed slave and squaw

When the man I refer to here as Ethan Rhys-Jones had reached the height of his success in congress, those southern roots found him and, according to what he wrote in his auto biography, had been approached to visit the historical site that had been his family lineage by someone in the city’s political seat. They had wanted to celebrate an historical 

date and have him publicly appear. He had replied simply “no thanks, I have no wish to ever step foot on that plaque of land.”

I’d always sensed there was some mystery within my blood. Some strange attraction to things I could have had no knowledge of but innately have always felt just as I had felt about Native American things.

So one day recently, around when I had Covid in 2020, I got curious and it was soon after my dna test results came that I decided to do some of my own detective work wondering what might be found in public records. I started with the gravesite which I’d found in an old photograph and it lead me on a shocking path first to the founding of the colonization of Virginia and all the way back over the ocean to King James and on and on the name traced further and deeper, connecting like dots of a tapestry puzzle and all connected to political powers and historical aristocracy going as far back to the Franks and the Normans of Brittany

My fascination with dna memory theory all come from things along this path that has lead me through my story ….I believe I am made of all things and contain all peoples 

a nobody’s reign

 

Besides the Greeks and ancient history, I am fascinated by the Renaissance and medieval history; particularly the people who have shaped western literature and culture 

Chaucer’s sister-in-law was Katherine Swynford, who was the mistress of John of Gaunt; and of their illegitimate line came Henry VIII

It is not the crowns and the powers and the glories I am drawn to dig through in my personal studies

It is the frailties of the people that lure me in—that an unassuming peasant girl from Belgium, reared in a nunnery ….could turn the head of someone who had then been the most powerful man of those times and then bear the illegitimate lineage that would one day change the future course of a foreign nation and challenge the Vatican itself 

It is this …. I spend hours in wistful thoughts within my cells ….I cling to

why? 

We forget what power each and everyone of us have if we are willing to take that high flung risk of chance 

a nobody peasant girl from nowhere whose bloodline became majestic and somehow still flows on

App life

the surreality of 2022 shoots splinters of ice to turn flesh to ribbons 

is it a dare or a roulette game,

wishing to escape and I suppose that last ditch desire to force myself to be convinced otherwise 

later….get a message; half my age, “hey beautiful—I know you don’t know me, but why don’t you come over and we can change that. Are you interested in some all night fun?”

App/a/thetic….left or right

still, aspire

 

In my most quiet times of late when I seek that kind of place of peace to take me from physical pain, my ever faithful and constant companion, I imagine what would be my idyllic refuge

Fine tuned ….yes, solitude; my cave, and there I could preside and look out over this universe ….away

It would not be big, but perfect, just big enough for just myself, and at still peace, no conversation to intrude, no needs, no wants of anything 

it came to me as I walked how well I like the Earth, it is only its human inhabitants I would prefer avoid. I think this is why I hike, I look for paths little tread upon, I look for hiding places, I look to avoid all thoughts of needs and wants 

and yet, how could I blame every human for what the masses impressions have left upon me ….to those others, from this distance, I would leave some message of happy greeting

I think I may come to dream of quiet breaths and drifting off and away and reaching out my hand upon a lovely lake ….and letting go all ….no needs, no wants, no longing anymore and a quiet joy of knowing my peace did come hard won but here may I at last let myself know rest and say ‘this is fine’