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The Little One

For centuries; betrayed, destroyed, annihilated.
Lifetimes; abandoned, abused, silenced.
Eons; burned, humiliated, rejected.
Ignored, raped, sucked dry;

By the group.

This group, that group, church, state, town, cooperative, club and committee, organization, corporation.

It’s the gatherings that do the damage.
The lynch mobs. The mad crowds. The witch hunts. The bureaucracies
Group mind, group think, group speak.

And the bastardisation begins.

So the little girl from the mental hospital.
You remember. The one with no ordinary mind. The one we raped for cookies. The one we drugged to quieten.

She soiled herself, you remember, electric currents shattering her subtle
mind. Scattering her bodies.
You remember. She knew how to spread. In love with cosmic vastness.                                      The innocent one.

She’s back.

And the wilful wild one, who split off has also returned, as is the priestess who dried the land, the black man who saw the fires coming, and many more besides.
They have returned, they are all here, looking through my eyes.

We have lived through the victim, and been a predator too.
And now; the little one is back, with a mind, a brain and a body that works.
And this time she is mastering things.

This time, a solution.

A heart solution.

She asked the Gods, and the archangels,

She’s reached up and down, through celestial hierarchies, near and weird.
She’s spread herself beyond, beyond the matrix of worlds.
She’s rattled on the angels doors, and called her friends, old and new, those that be and those that do.

She’s gathering forces.


Asking for Grace,

For a solution, a real solution, a cosmic solution.

To the darkness of groups

Copy-write Helen Russ