Diabolical One

Woke up from a dream and saw my life. Sitting in bed I looked down on the scene, like frames of a comic strip. There I was -- the kind one -- attending church. There I was --the frantic one -- angry at actors for not learning their lines. Year after year, frame after frame, the two me-s lived in separate orbits.

I knew the holy one. I liked this part who prayed and loved and planted gardens. Even my body sided with her. Who could see my fierce ambitions when they came packaged in a sweet smile and petite frame. I was the “cute one.”

Poor shadow self, left to strive alone. To fight and kick and struggle.  You wanted to play in the big artist sandbox.  But your anger burned your bridges while the holy one meditated from high places.

Poor shadow self, I suddenly see you. How hard you worked while no one understood, or even knew your name. Diabolical One, with ferocious focus.  I won’t forsake you.

Maybe we can marry?

What children will we produce?