The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead. The dead keep it.The way is shut.

There is no way back. I know that. I saw to that. I cannot be who I was and I don't want to be who I was.

But there is no stopping how I am made, and no stopping what still runs through me like poison tainting the water in my veins.

Sometimes I feel the dead move through me like smoke or air, I breath them in and exhale them.

Sometimes I can feel, like an electric current, death rise up through me like a frustrated but understanding lover.

Sometimes I remember the things from before. The wastes. The dark beyond darkness where the wrecks and ruins gain new life. The tree made of legs and arms and spines that grew mysteries fed on the blood of the magicians. The wispy touch of a thousand souls holding you in cautious regard. The heavy, horrific love of the ones that live below.

Sometimes, I forget it all. Sometimes, I am haunted.

Who do I have to talk to? Who can listen and help me?

I sealed the way shut as one of the dead- I followed the light out of the dark. I continue to follow the light though when I stumble, I remember the dark places I used to hide in. In the light, there is no where I can hide.

I do not want to go back to the dark.

But the dark is still a tempting drug.

But also....yes. I cannot, will not, and do not want to go back the way I came.

But still, the reminders hurt.

I think I'm lost, though maybe I am just blind

I feel like a Christian with pagan scars.
I feel like a pagan who can't be, and doesn't want to be, a pagan.
I feel like a Catholic with the host in my mouth and faery fire in my head.
I feel like a shamaness clutching a cross that sometimes burns.
I feel like I have one God who blinds me.
I feel like the path is under my feet, but I don't know where it leads.
I feel like I can't pray.
I feel like all I do is pray, sometimes.
I feel like my head is full of voices and I don't know who all of them are.
I feel alone.
I feel like I can't tell anyone without them shoving their agenda on me (with exceptions).
I feel like no one really knows where I am walking.
I feel like I don't belong anywhere.
I feel like I only belong with my God but I'm afraid to talk to him.
I feel like I can belong with my fae friends, but I'm not sure who they are yet.
I feel like my life is empty without my God.
I feel like my soul is dark without my God.
I feel like my heart is broken with my God.
I feel like a part of me is crippled if I can't express how He made me.
I feel frightened when I hear the words, "You can't deny it: it's in your blood."
I feel like a Faery Doctor under the mantel of the Blessed Mother.
I feel like I need a sense of wonder to be whole.
I feel like I am lost, but I think I am only blind.
I feel like sin is important to remember, but I can't let the fear of it control me.
I feel like I'd rather go to Church with the people in the Hills, but they don't have the Host.
I feel like a Christian with pagan scars.

Some things for the Lord, not of my hand.

              "O guiding night!
              O night more lovely than the dawn!
              O night that has united
              the Lover with his beloved,
              transforming the Beloved into his Lover.

            Upon my flowering breast,
              which I kept wholly for him alone,
              there he lay sleeping,
              and I caressing him
              there in a breeze from the fanning cedars.

            When the breeze blew from the turret,
              as I parted his hair,
              it wounded my neck
              with its gentle hand,
              suspending all my senses.

            I abandoned and forgot myself,
              laying my face on my Beloved;
              all things ceased; I went out from myself,
              leaving my cares
              forgotten among the lilies."


             "O sweet cautery,
              O delightful wound!
              O gentle hand! O delicate touch
              that tastes of eternal life
              and pays every debt!
              In killing you changed death to life."


               ---St. John of the Cross

Take me now, baby, here as I am
Hold me close, try and understand
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe
Love is a banquet on which we feed

Come on now, try and understand
The way I feel under your command
Take my hand, as the sun descends
They can't hurt you now
Can't hurt you now
Can't hurt you now

Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us

Have I doubt, baby, when I'm alone
Love is a ring on the telephone
Love is an angel, disguised as lust
Here in our bed 'til the morning comes

Come on now, try and understand
The way I feel under your command
Take my hand, as the sun descends
They can't hurt you now
Can't hurt you now
Can't hurt you now

Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us

With love we sleep, with doubt the vicious circle turns, and burns
Without you, I cannot live, forgive the yearning burning
I believe in love too real to feel, take me now, take me now, take me now

Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to lust
Because the night belongs to lovers
Saying anybody saving face belongs to her

---10,000 Maniacs, "Because the Night"