THE MATH: (Mercury + Venus + Pluto CONJUNCT Capricorn) = Arch-Nemesis

THE WEAVE:

“What up Love,”

Mercury speaks, walking

into Pluto’s office…
Venus looks up, caught
red-handed, rifling though papers
on Pluto's desk.  Her eyes
go wide, and she stands frozen.

"...Whatcha doing, Venus?"
Mercury asks with a grin.

"I found these letters,
from Persephone, to Pluto,
want to read them?"
Venus asks, knowing
there is no Way out of this
violation, but she can certainly
create an accomplice
out of Mercury.

"You know it," Mercury says,
"I'm alWays looking
for fresh secrets..."
Dear Death,

I have never Loved and hated
a place, the Way I Love
and hate this one that has held
me, most of my life.

I don't want to be anywhere,
but Here.  I am so relieved
by these windy meadows
and the forests, and

the slowly shifting song
of the webbed-ones, as they
carry me through the Spring.
But the whole thing is wrong

-this ownership of land.
So much space for One little
family.  So wrongly-utilized.
This land has slept all my centuries.

So fallow, that dreams pop out
at me, from behind every
wild rosebush.  I'd like 
 to share it more, or give

it back to the ancestors
it was taken from.  But it's not
mine.  I am just the Heart
-in-residence, dreaming

of restoring my blood
from it's dirty inheritance.
And yet, I am so attached
to this soil, and the relationship

that has grown within me,
from its poison roots.  I hear
this Earth, and all that has been
done, for me to luxuriate in

its natural splendor. I have learned
the language of how Life grows.
I move like dirt, under the thumbnail
of my father. Quietly praying

for Change, when he is not looking.

Love, Life

Dear Death,

Something tells me,
if I'm really going to
hop on the Love train, I should

do it Now, as Mercury
prepares to give me a little
more time, to figure out

how I stand in my own
Way.  Communication,
what a fucking game

of hot and cold.
I want so badly, not to be
pissed off, every time he opens

his fucking mouth, whether
a compliment or criticism.
It's usually one or the other.

Some remark on the state of things.
If my father's mind is anything
like his barn, it is

a fucking mess.  I have
tenderly swept, and cleaned it,
mucked it's stalls -And he comes in

and begins a new hobby,
and fucks it all up.
Now we have a chicken coop,

but he has made it impossible
for me to get from the hay loft
to the hay trough, without

a lot of fucking hassle.
My father can't do anything
right, in my head right now,

and I know it.  I know I am
flawed, and unfit to hold him
in such distaste.

But I feel it in my bones,
when I watch him take
my nephew to the pond,

with his fishing rod.  My father
is not safe.  He is not a mindful
caretaker.  He does not believe that

children understand, or in the Way
moments pile up, when you are
frightened, over, and over again.

When you are left alone, with one
parent, or the other.  My father
never hit me, but he told me

when he wanted to.  He growled
at me, to make sure I knew.
And when my mother was aWay

he watched movies, where women
were raped, because he thought
"children do not understand,"

as I watched over his shoulder.
I didn't feel safe to ask
about these confusing experiences

he created, and somehow chalked up
to me being too soft-headed
to interpret.  I remember

him.  And how he would come
home, after weeks away, and only
add to the Chaos already existing

all around me, with his
explosions of projects,
absent mind, and his 

stupid fucking comments
on my clothes, and my Way
in the World.  Daddy,

is who I burned 
all of my diaries for, because
he had somehow convinced me

that all my "complaining"
made no sense.  That my pain
was just "drama", until I did not

know what was real.  So yeah,
I'm fucking mad about it.
But no, it's not worth telling him

yet.  I am only at the beginning
of these feelings.  I have not figured
out, how much I need to say

and how much I can let go of
on my own.  How can I wisely
use this Time, and not get caught

up in his figure 8's
of bullshit?  I have spent
so much Time, babying him

through the harm he causes,
like a bull in a china shop.
But I Love him, and I'd rather not

tell him how to be, as he has
done to me, all of my Days.
Something tells me, if I'm going

to hop on the Love train,
I should do it now, as Mercury
prepares to give me a little

more Time, to figure it out.

Love, Life

When Mercury is done reading

he looks up. Venus is waiting

with a question on her lips…
"Why do you think
Pluto keeps this shit
if he doesn't want to be
with Persephone?" Venus asks.

Mercury shrugs, "Everyone
needs, an arch-nemesis."

"Do they?" Venus challenges.

Mercury smiles,
"If you want a Myth to turn, yes.
Pluto does not like to play
the roles his Lover would give him.
He is not a Savior, or a Father.
He believes he owes her Nothing
but Death.  He only wants
to be himSelves. And he sees himSelves,
in Persephone.  He challenges her
to be the woman who no longer needs
to be saved, by his, or any other man's
approval.  As he holds her aWay
from him, he takes her as his
Queen.  As he forsakes her,
he honors her."

"That sounds fucking annoying,"
Venus glares, at the desk
moodily.

Mercury beams,
"Persephone does not
like it either."

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