You have to SEE them.
“I want to seeyou,” I sob.
I’m not who you need to face.
Pax is here, too, whispering in my ear with urgency:
“I need you, Stella.
“We need you, Stella.
“Stella?”
Rose?
“Rose?
“Rose, come back.”
Rose, I love you.
“Rose, I love you.”
And I’m here now, I’m back, and I’m weak but I’m strong, and I look Reverend Jenkins in the eye, and I look at the Dark Trio with their hollow eyes and their wormy writhing skin, and I see they are twisted and vile, here to hurt and inflict pain. I see they have not always been this way, that they are disconnected from Source, they are deeply entangled in their wounds; their trauma has a pulse. And I see another aching soul here: five-year-old me, small, scared, full of wrath and rage. I see Rose.
“I see your pain,” I say. To Them. To him. To her. To me.
“I see your suffering.
“I see your trauma.
“You can still choose the light.
“I forgive you.”
I drop the knife.
THE TEN OF SWORDS
A MINOR ARCANA CARD, 10TH IN THE SUIT OF SWORDS
Ten swords pierce a fallen person’s back. Dark skies loom overhead, but dawn breaks through at the horizon.
Upright: crisis, loss, surrender, dawn after the darkest hour
Reversed: defeat, helplessness, recovery, regeneration
My Stella,
My Rose.
She heard me.
And she faced Them.
And she forgave Them.
And she forgave herself.
