archives, poetry

I Dare Not. {poetry}


I dare not sit still… to be alone in the silence.

Where my shallow breath is evident, where my mind likes to play.
Trickery and cruelty, in the dance of ultimate resistance.

I dare not go inside of me. I dare not look…
Dare not remember.
For that would be too hard
To remember all the answers stored — so militantly — in the lucid filing drawers of spirit.
In such order: A for All the things I’m afraid of… Z for the Zen that I am not.

I dare not meet this resistance with an open heart…
ask it kindly to be my friend…
welcome it with loving arms, motion it with a soft pat to the vacant spot beside me…
beckon it to sit with me now, inside the stillness,
where delicate winds have turned away to leave the two of us be.
Where I can commit, ever so timidly, to turn my body to face this resistance.
When my eyes meet hers and lock into quiet agreement,
that we might face one another like a looking glass,
that I may finally explore her as friend not foe.
For is it really true she wants to stifle? To hold me back from life? What answers exist in her eyes?
I am weary now, in this tug of war. Could we exchange instead of pull on each other’s force?
Is there an embrace to be found, sitting here, upon the ground?

Perhaps she wasn’t push-pulling after all, but gently shaking me awake.
Grounding me to the place to do so, inviting me to see her face.
To know now that this face is mine. A mirror image, beyond all space, all time.
Remember who you really are. Return to her, embrace… your real You.

The human body, a messenger of truth
Resistance, the red flag of illumination.

I dare not remember… that life is but a winding path
and the more we grapple and torment over its supposed hold, the more it digs in.
The most beautiful epiphanies of light rain down through the deepest darkest struggle,
a simple blink of the eye reveals the same truth that we may realize was there throughout —
Never-flailing, ever-loving, the ever-guiding beacon,
through stormy violent waves that in space-time feel like savage spin cycles,
threatening to drown us of oxygen, holding us under…
Until we realize we were never submerged at all.

And the turbulent shadowed waves, cloaking, blurring, blinding us from this, the all-elusive surface,
are as much our erosive kin as the multiverse of sand grains that line its sea bed
to wash and churn at our God-born bodies,
to polish back our layers so we shine ever brighter, ever bolder in the alchemy of sea and sunlight,
whenever the time may come, that we emerge..
Up, up, into the heavens beyond and be-all.

And so it may be, that the dark storm of resistance could be met as a dear friend who simply holds us…
through our very own…resistance to realization.

And I dare to…


An ongoing journey with life and health has led Ange Sang back to her true creative therapy, through the written word and the lens of the camera. Ange is a devoted lover of all things nature, a tree-hugger, and has a heart that feels utterly compelled to shoot arrows of word and image, straight from her mystical experience of life to as many receivers as possible. On a unique path of physical illness, Ange began to share her written and visual arts as tools of thanks — a nod to an ever-rising theme of gratitude, in recognition of those around her. Her heart-vision continues to find its solace and drive in the grace of Mama Nature and the aim to recognize and articulate the grapple of the human condition.


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Rebelle Society
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