POEM: chiron

Molly Beane poetry


Molly Beane Poetry | September 28, 2019 | San Diego, CA

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I am pocked with lesions. 

Plagued for more than thirty years. 


I spent most of my life trying to ignore them. 

To hide them so no one could see. 

To bury them deep in the chambers of my heart. 


Constantly distracted. 

Sleepwalking amongst other sleepwalkers. 


I didn’t want to hear the cries or feel the pain.

Afraid of life’s darker lessons,

I exerted unspoken effort to feel safe.  


Always busy. Doing. 

Hypnotized by blue-light screens. 

Numbing wounds with ingestible anesthetics. 


But every once in a while, the flood gates leaked a little. 

The hole in my heart seeped, stuffed with unconscious longing. 


A soft ache. 

A brief moment of understanding.

I was living what I knew but did not want. 

I was treading water in a stagnant pond. 




Then one day, I met Chiron.

I found him in Gemini, in 

The seventh house of romantic partnerships. 


Interesting guy. 

Both a Greek centaur and 

A cosmic rock; a shamanistic bridge 

Between Saturn and the outer planets. 


Constantly wounded.

But by overcoming trauma,

He became a teacher of healing. 

Pain transformed Chiron into a prophet.

He is the wounded healer.


He whispered, “Come with me.” 

I don’t know why but I did.

I followed him into Dante’s famous dark woods

Where it’s easy to get lost. 


At the trailhead,  

He knew I was scared. 

He encouraged, 

“Surrender and relax into the mystery.” 

“There is no turning back, only going through.” 


Walking the path was harrowing. 

Littered with dirty nails. 

I sensed Monsters all around

But I couldn’t see them. 

Would I make it out alive? 




So I had no choice. Surrender. 


I bled. 

I got lost.  

But eventually found my way. 

My feet formed an armor of hardened scabs and scars.

One foot in front of the other. 


I confronted many monsters. 

They’re actually less scary than I thought. 


And strangely, they taught me things. 

If you can stay awake in the woods, 

Great secrets are revealed. 

And sometimes, you can mine for precious jewels 

In the darkest places. 


On the other side of the woods, 

I stumbled upon the light. 

Suddenly buoyant.  

Liberated from the niggling in my heart. 

Many lesions healed. 

Full belly breath: In, Out. 


I reversed my position. 

Pain can either be a curse or a teacher.

Walking in the shadows revealed

What I am really capable of and who I really am.  

Consciousness expands in the dark. 


I marvel at the irony we share  –

I marvel at this great human secret that isn’t really a secret. 

If we turn back from the dark woods, 

We actually feel more pain in the end.

And by peering fearlessly into the shadows, 

We die but become reborn.

On the other side of the great darkness, 

Gray morphs to technicolor, and

We taste life fully for the first time. 

Molly Beane poetry

love, molly

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