Past Life Regression Session
I had an intense regression session earlier this year where I learned I had been executed for harlotry by my husband. The year was around 1827. These poems came out of that regression and spontaneous regressions after that. Two poems are from my point of view; and two are from the male lover’s point of view.
This is turning into an anthology along with poems that have outlined my experiences in this lifetime that coincide with past life experiences and the synchronicities apparent. Again, I am open to healthy discussion and discourse. They are in order of meeting, the execution, the burial, and afterlife. Enjoy.
#1 — Female Point of View
We Saw Each Other
You reached up and gently,
But firmly grasped my arm
As you guided me down from the steed.
The way you had done many times before
Keeping me safe, cared for
And protected.
A young lady and her family’s groom
From very different worlds and expectations.
For the first time, I looked down
And saw your face.
I saw your face.
I saw you.
Instead of looking through you
With the unearned arrogance
I foolishly considered my birthright.
I truly, and finally, saw you.
Your eyes as deep, blue and dangerous as the waters
At the base of Aillte an Mhothair.
The desire to leap into their watery depths
Was overwhelming, instantaneous and fierce.
I should have recoiled
Holding my head high and proud.
I should have dismissed you and walked away
As society demanded a I do.
Yet seemingly, with no other choice,
I let myself tumble and fall over the precipice
Into the dark mysterious danger of you.
The danger of us.
Without any resistance.
Without any remorse.
And you saw me too.
For the first time
You truly saw me.
As no one else in this ever had or could.
Recognizing the brokenness
Mirrored in the blackness of our separateness
That only served to make us one.
Igniting a flame deep within our spirits,
A flame that has burned for many lifetimes
Both of us
Willingly, and without fear,
Accepted the challenge that our souls demanded.
Never once flinching in reticence
As the boundaries of our lives were obliterated
We were damned.
We were blessed.
We saw each other.
#2 — Female Point of View
The Harlot
The desperate howl
Of my lover’s keening
Vibrated in the water around me.
As my husband held me down in the sea
Growling under his breath,
“You are mine.”
“You are mine.”
“You are mine.”
Precious clear air quickly being
Replaced by murky water in my lungs
As I struggled and fought to live.
To live, and to love.
To love just one more time.
“Harlot” they shouted.
“Witch” they chanted.
A celebration of hatred.
An army of men held my lover back
Pinning his arms down,
Keeping him from me,
Forcing him to watch me die.
Breaking him, destroying him
As he struggled to save me.
To protect me.
To stop the madness.
To keep loving me.
This was our punishment for love.
I shuddered and died.
And with every cell in my body
I cursed my husband.
I promised to return.
I became the witch.
I was the harlot.
#3 Male Point of View
I Dove
I dove.
I dove again.
And again.
And again.
I could not leave you where they left you.
Your soul struggling for salvation
Deep in those dark, unholy, black waters
So close to hell. So close to hell.
Your body bloating and disintegrating
Into the louring seabed below.
I dove and dove, reaching and grasping to find you.
Until my hands finally touched your skin.
And I brought you home.
I dove.
I dove again.
And again.
And again.
My strong, calloused hands found and brought you home.
The life and love gone from your amber eyes
The eyes I lovingly and passionately dove into every night.
Seaweed all tangled up in your golden red hair.
Your lips once warm and moist with honey
Were now cold, blue, and briny from the sea.
I lifted you up and carried you back home.
Back home hidden deep in the dark recesses
Of the sanctified holy ground
They tried to deny you because of our sin.
I dove.
I dove again.
And again.
And again.
My mother’s childhood rosary beads
Wrapped and entwined in your fingers.
Your body wrapped in the blanket we loved so hard beneath
I prayed and covered you with the sacred promise of love.
As I dove into the hot lava river of grief
Disguised as a small glass flask in my back pocket.
I deeply gulped and sank into its smoky oblivion
Knowing it was all that would sustain my soul
Until God brings us back together again.
I dove.
I dove again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
#4 Male Point of View
Feathers
Startled awake from what felt
Like a deep, endless slumber,
I felt you caressing my feet.
Your delicate hands as soft and cool
As the finest satin.
Like I remembered them to be.
Lady’s hands that never toiled.
How can this be?
I buried you myself
In hidden sacred ground
More than 30 years ago.
Yet, now, here you are.
Where have you been?
Why are you here?
Where am I?
I asked those questions
But my lips never moved or quivered.
You knew and answered me with your heart
And smiled with such love and kindness.
My heart clenched and surged in my chest as
I doubled over in relief
And so much love.
“Darling, it’s time. It’s time to fly home.”
My arms, shoulders and back were tingling
As my skin had started to rip and tear
In tiny straight lines.
In a zig zag jagged pattern.
Tiny white tendrils were emerging through.
Feathers.
There was no pain
Just a tremendous sense of relief
Of coming home.
And a surge of strength
Enveloped in warm feelings
Of being blanketed in love.
My weak and old bones felt so strong …
Stronger than they had in decades.
I’m growing wings.
Feathers turning golden at the tips.
My mortal life was through.
My tired flesh and bones
Were no longer needed.
Life was over.
Devoid of me.
Yet my spirit was bursting
Full of love and freedom
And you.
I am empty and full
At the same time.
I just want to fly.
I want to fly home.
I want to fly home with you.
Our wings wrapped around each other.
My hot gold against your cool silver.
Diving and soaring
Through the stars and the Universe.
As we have done through eternity.
We are finally together.
Thank you for taking the time to read this.
