He crushed my soul with his criticisms and accusations. With his threatening body language and cornering strategies. The times he chased me, shouting over my sobs, while I tried to close a door between us as he pushed right through, a video camera in my face capturing my tears, my angusih.
He crushed my soul, and so it disappeared. Fled somewhere to lick wounds, heal. It has been lost to me now, for years, although I keep searching, calling. Did it hide in the safety of the forest outside his closed windows, finding asylum among the wild turkeys and grouse, the qentle deer, the lone tortoise, the wandering bear, the wise owls and crows, and the deep anonymity of night?
Did it follow me to this sacred ground, protected by family and the magic of love and caring? Is it waiting, now, in the dense forest outside my open window while I search for ways to bring it home? Does it remember the magic we made together, loosing the spirits of stones and burrowing things, crafting the wonders of chance into worth?
Grounded in Mother Earth, I reach out into the ether, feeling for some sense of soul, lost still, and dreaming of finding its way home.