THE MATH: (Lilith + Cancer) SQUARE (Chiron + Aries) = Grieve the Living


Lilith wakes up, mumbling

on a raft, halfway through

a decade-old recitation
that only Adam ever heard…
"-Be tough. Sit up."  We call this
a "mature" disposition.
Calm and collected
-now that I resonate with,

but this environment is
killing me, and I must tolerate it?
I get depressed, yes, I know
the whole World can't be listen.

But when it's hard to get out,
it's natural to hope
someone is tuning in.
Instead, I need to medicate

and cross my fingers for remission?
How do you grieve the living?
A person does not need
to be analysed,

but discussed with.
Every problem has a route,
but not all thru-Ways can be
trusted. And we'd be blind

to believe, there is no
possibility, a shift in reality
is rooted in community.
My emotions, have a tendency,

to cloud over.  Sleep will
wake me in a cold sweat.
Some mornings, I feel hung over.
So a spoonful of sugar

makes the medicine go down,
as a thick candy coating
crest the wave of Self
-doubt?  Now the problem

is missing, but the solution
is not found?
Is that what you call
solid ground?"

Lilith remembers more

recent diary entries,

about Adam..
April, 2020: THE MATH:
Chiron CONJUNCT the native Sun in Aries
= Life goes on

It seems like Chiron
just wants to talk about you.
Women show up to tell me
how it hurts them,

when I tell the truth
in how I feel about you;
whether it is because
of how I chose to Love you,

or how I learned to let you
go.  There was much pain
brewing, inside of me
before I met you,

that I didn't understand.
You partly understood.
And you made it better,
and you made it worse,

and life goes on.
April, 2020: THE MATH:
Chiron CONJUNCT native Sun in Aries
= I won't anymore 

She texted me to tell me
the decision I made to Love
him, still hurts her,
even now as she is married,

stable and secure
with her job,
in her own home.
She has so many things

that I do not,
and I told her how
grateful I would be
to have what she has

at this Time when
my business has collapsed,
my gender identity is exploding,
my sexual trauma has worked

it's Way, to the surface
of my skin, like glass,
asking to be removed as I look
my father in the eye.

But I get it.
I loved him too.
I just know there are Tales
no use in telling anymore.

The timeline has switched.
Life has grown over him.
The lesson is the same.
To heal.  To die.  To heal.

And I asked her if we could
be about something
beyond him, and bring our bond
into the present.  Where we are

both here, looking for alchemy
in Love.  I told her,
I would hear anything
she ever need to say,

but that I have run
out of Ways to say,
"I'm sorry,"
and I won't anymore.

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