Naked Lady

Naked Lady is now available for purchase at Amazon.

INTRODUCTION

The brightest light comes
from the darkest night
if we will walk through the shadows
This is my story

FOREWORD

Join me
as you read my story
one that informed
my life
and imprisoned me
for many years

Know that
only
when I began
to shine light
on my life
to share my story
did my healing begin

Join me
in celebration
of my journey
of transformation
made possible
by love and light

WORD WOMAN

Wake up
Walk out
Walk on

Word Woman

Speak up
Speak loud
Speak clear

Word Woman

Stand still
Stand tall
Stand proud

Word Woman

Write strong
Write long
Write on

Word Woman

DEAR READER

Read these words
in a candlelit cave
with your fingertips
or by a flashlight
in a closet with
your eyes closed
My words are for you
dear reader and
they will change us
me as I write
you as you read
we if we allow
the transformation
from soul to soul

ISSUES OF INTIMACY

This morning
I walk a mile around the house
wash dishes/clothes/windows
open bills/while
horses and cattle wander
the adjacent pasture I herd and
corral dust bunnies/mop
floors/vacuum rugs/water
flowers/take a shower
wash my hair/ponder what to wear
running from my words

I begin five verses five times
chase remnants of a dream
research/word process/re-
process as clouds
of memories escape
into the ether of afternoon
running from the mind fields
of the golden pasture

PROCESS

I write
I feel
I hurt
I sigh
I gasp
I grasp for breath
I breathe noisily
to prove I still exist
I pace
I rock
I hide my head
I hug myself
I wail
I weep
I want to eat drink kill
sleep read or run
instead
I breathe and
I write

I write
I feel
I sigh
I smile
I rush
I flush
I catch my breath
I raise my head
I hug myself
I laugh
I leap
I breathe and
I write

BEFORE

To get away
from the damp dreary
“City by the Bay”
in the summer of ’69
my life coming apart at the seams
in recovery from a major malaise
partner in jail no bail
imminent eviction
from our Victorian flat
To get away
from the promises of flower power
now crushed under the weight
of a world of violence
I go with my friend
to a Marin County commune
for a few days of R&R
She has an aura of
mystery and excitement
seems supported
by the 1% free universe
I want a bit of her magic
to rub off on me
so I tag along for the ride

Memory serves up
another dish of pain
on this berry-picking
pie-baking Saturday
when a buck knife cuts
my hand in the V between
thumb and index finger
a sure sign which says
“Danger Ahead!”

Almost asleep on a pallet
in the kitchen I refuse
the amorous advances
of a now famous actor
who kneels and whispers
erotic words in my ear
After midnight a visitor arrives
and offers us a ride to the city
I want to go home tomorrow
is visiting day at the jail
1st stop
a coffee shop somewhere
I sense trouble and a trap
2nd stop
the Hell’s Angels camp
in the middle of nowhere
but I am with my friend
surely she will save me

DURING

In the dark and dead of night
in a Marin County camp
I am trapped in a trailer terrified
lying on a bed being eaten
by one Angel after another
with at least ten more
waiting at the door
I am aware of funky smells
scruffy beards scuzzy hair
filthy levis leathers chains
buck knives jack boots

They have instructions
to eat me because
I have the “curse”
a blood rite in reverse
One Angel says
“If you try to run
we’ll kill you!”
Another Angel says
as he sucks out my blood
“Go on admit it
it feels good
you like it!”

The Angel train continues
hour after hour
tongue after tongue
with an occasional
dirty dick trick until daylight
when released from captivity
I stumble out of the trailer
over to a dying campfire
and the company of the only
two women in camp
my friend and a poet
infamous for her erotic verses
With that “Sorry it was you
glad it wasn’t me” look in their eyes
one hands me three reds
and a beer to kill the pain
“Don’t dare complain!”
I have made a blood sacrifice
at the Angel altar

AFTER

After the gang rape
not saved by my friend
nor an Angel acquaintance
of my old man and
also the poet’s lover
since I am just
fresh bloody meat
for the fledglings to eat
in one of their initiation rites
inside I die

After the release and the reds
my friend and I
thumb a ride
back to the city
T h e   r e d s   c o m e   o n   
a n d   m  y     l  i  f  e     
s    l    o    w    s       d    o    w    n
a s   w e   s t a n d   a l o n g   
H W Y   1 0 1
and a CHP cop stops
picks us up and says
“You can’t hitchhike
on this highway, girls!”
and I sit in the back seat
with Stetson hat in hand
two more forbidden reds
hidden behind
the beaded hat band
toying with the idea of telling
but my fear of Angel rage
is stronger than the law
so I am silent for 20 years
swallowing my secret
with another red
willing my body dead
killing my feelings

***

I return home
take a bath
change my clothes
visit my old man at jail
but all he wants
is a drug mule
me the fool once again
being used like a tool
passed from hand to hand
Oh the buck knife wound
warned me of danger
but I did not heed
its hidden message
of hurt

I tell my sisters
but not my mother
never my father
nor my brother

I tell 2 lovers
but they blame me
Why didn’t I escape?

So my small self
wanders in those dark woods
in tears with fears for years
too scarred and scared
to hear or heed the call
to tell my tale

3 thoughts on “Naked Lady

  1. I celebrate you, Elizabeth, for your dedication to blazing
    a trail for others to follow in your own search for truth and
    healing, for sharing that offers healing for your readers,
    and for finding the perfect expression. This is a book of
    beauty and transcendence.

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