For the revolution of a young friend

Once Dina met a man in a dark three-piece suit who had been introduced as being responsible for oceans and seas. He had made her think of her father. With each thought the revolt had sharpened. Who was that man thinking he could control the elements. How presumptuous such a title. Now for such responsibility wouldn’t there be a god or goddess, a Sister Moon. Surely not a mere mortal who can be washed away in one and only one wave, not a man who can drown in a puddle? Surely not a man red-hot with anger and popping veins, shaking if his bidding wasn’t done… So her revolution began.
It had always been about control. Now, the rebel she had become, aimed and schemed and worked to get control over her own life. Step by step she would create the distance, be evasive, less personal, be herself, yet in his presence wear a mask, the mask of normality. He would notice the mutiny of course and his ungodly wrath might descent upon her. She steeled her back with the love for herself and him who gave her the key to it. His age old anger could still hurt her, she however would ride out that wave and be standing at the end.
She saw the giant trashing about, squashing flowers, breaking stronger branches, yet nobody seemed to notice the path of destruction. Where he touched, darkness reigned. And the darkness brought fear to her and pain to the blind. Yet she knows she is a woman now, no longer a child. It can not happen again, and again. She recognized the tears of others for what they were: a price revoltingly high for what they perceived as security.
Maybe she lost her fear knowing the tail of the dragon that had tried to slay and possess her in her every move and deepest thoughts. “Die Gedanken sind frei.“ She repeated that over and over again , she wrote it down on pieces of paper. With ink and paper she strengthened her resolve. The pen smeared a tear into a flower. The words of her subversivity were love and friendship, joy, hope, life, smile and yes.
I tell her to wake up every morning with a smile and wake up her voice with phrases like, Good morning. My Love. It is a beautiful day. The sun is a pirate and I am the captain of my ship.
The first word she had written down, was difficult, the description of that soul going from foul to vile, from repugnant to loathsome. When those words had left her, the hardest word she had to say was: yes. Yes, I am my own woman. Yes, I control my life. Yes, I am beautiful and Yes, I want to be happy. Yes, I am vulnerable and Yes, I am happy.
That she had written on a winter’s afternoon and there wasn’t a sea in sight. The Oceans had washed away the pain and left her nothing but whispers and beauty. She learned that if he ruled the seas and gulf streams then all she had to do was turn into something else and she turned into a beautiful, strong, wild woman. Viva la Revolution! It is the end and a new beginning.
My friend, my sister, learn to trust the earth and wind, water and fire and then you will be full and free. String the beads of life as a sign of courage for others to see. If you put them on a staff, it will be an honor to lean on it. I give you my colors and crystalline words so we can walk together, serene and secure within ourselves, as will all who read what you had to say. The others will know and take heart and be helped by your example. Have the courage, write, write it.