This Woman's Work

Kai's SONG OF THE WEEK: 

"In 1997, American R&B musician Maxwell covered 'This Woman's Work' for the release of his album MTV Unplugged. The artist later re-recorded the song in studio for his album Now (2001). This version of the song was released as the album's second single in 2001 and peaked in the US Billboard charts at #58 (Billboard Hot 100)[6] and #16 (Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs). This version also appeared in the movie Love & Basketball. 'This Woman's Work' was performed on season 9 of American Idol by Michael Lynche. Kate Bush's ‘This Woman’s Work’ Got Deandre Brackensick into the TOP 24: on American Idol Final Judgement 2012." (Wiki) (Lyrics)

Kai's Thoughts: 

So I'm trying something a little different this week. Let me know what you think...

*****

He walked into his home office and slumped down in his large brown lazy boy. He could no longer stand the weight of his own body or perhaps it was the weight of his own mind--it was always in/on his mind. He fought against the feeling daily, not knowing who to turn to. Who could really help him carry such weight? God was great—his mother had introduced him to God long ago, but he longed for the arms of a woman, his mother, a lover, a friend, someone who might help carry the weight, but for now all he had was this chair. It was sturdy and soft. He had imagined fading into it completely. He did want to disappear.

He wanted a break, but time would never stop for him—he was always trying to catch up. He never felt good enough and knew that was always his motivator—he wanted to prove he could win despite the voices in his heart that told him he was destined to fail. These inner voices were his own of course matched by those voices of everyday haters who liked to remind him of his imperfection. But this man was loved by most—there were so many who supported him, who told him of his brilliance and beauty, but he never said it to himself. He never felt it for himself—love. He could only feel the ugly he had experienced in his short life thus far, he was only 23-years-old. Everything that he did, he did to survive against the odds.  

He remembers being in his mother’s womb. She didn’t know what was happening in her womb exactly—she became ill. According to medical specialist his mother had borne her last child 15 years prior and she was to bear no more. But he wanted to be born and he wanted her to be his mother and she wanted him to be her baby. It was a struggle for them both. Once the mother realized she was pregnant and not dying of some rare dis-ease, she felt joy. God had given her a miracle child, but holding this child made her so sick. Yes, he was too long for her, so by the sixth month she could no longer walk with ease, without pain, but she carried him still. Inside her womb a war was occurring. What his mother never knew was that there were two babies in her womb, two babies that wanted to be born. He remembers this. He remembers sharing the space, but not wanting to share. He remembers kicking and punching his sibling. He remembers hating this other child. He didn’t know that all of his rage was not only felt by his sibling, but also his mother who had to carry them both. He regrets that now.

He wishes that his sibling had fought back harder. He wishes his sibling had lived. Now he finds himself alone in a room and he wishes he could cry out to his sibling. He wishes his sibling would cry out to him.

He’s the only one who remembers the other child though his mother also carries the scars from his rage in the womb. He was born fighting even when fighting wasn’t necessary, it was the only way he knew how move. He collected guilt like debt, heavy—but for him victory had always mattered most. Lately victory was starting to feel oppositional to life. In the eyes of many he was a winner, but he despised himself. He hated to be alone with himself because he could no longer charm himself. He removed the mask and in the mirror he saw himself a monster.

In that chair, he traveled back to his mother’s womb, back to when there were two inside her. He took note of the space inside, it was much larger than he remembered and he felt afraid. The sibling he thought he’d murdered was there with him, facing him. He reached out to touch the other body, but his sibling was afraid, remembering what had happened before. He realized that he had no right to reach out and touch with out asking permission first. He became aware of his sense of entitlement over this other body and to his mother’s womb. He stared and motioned to his sibling. He moved his body as best he could in the form of what he imagined peace and apology might look like. The sibling lifted his head and slowly moved closer. The sibling put his hand on his brother’s face and held it there. The force, the power that emanated between them, shocked and soothed the brother. He closed his eyes and felt deeply. He could no longer hold all he had been holding and his sibling knew it too. When he opened his eyes, he was alone in the womb again. He searched for the sibling—he didn’t want to lose them again. Afraid that he had once again hurt his sibling, he began to weep. He cried and cried and cried some more.

He reached out to the edges of the womb space and saw something he hadn’t seen before. In his mothers womb there was a mirror and his reflection became apparent. He saw himself and he saw his sibling—they had been merged. He had been looking for himself but he thought he was looking for another. He couldn’t understand how he managed long ago to destroy a sibling and how he was that sibling. Jarred by the notion, he wept more. He could no longer carry the weight, so he cried in the womb of his mother. He cried until his feelings calmed. He looked around the womb and said a prayer. He gave thanks to his mother for holding him despite the pain he inflicted upon her body. He was grateful for her love. She had to bear all of his rage, all of his confusion, all of his pain, all of his dreams and nightmares while also carrying her own. She held all of that inside for him.

As he came back to himself in his office, in that chair, he prayed a prayer for his mother, for himself and for the universe. He had been born again and was grateful for the rebirth.