Creative Mind Poetry

Vulnerable Self
Extract from a short story - a fictional interpretation that could speak of "how to welcome vulnerable self back in the world"

The narrator is an old wise man, he is dealing with a young wounded man named Evan. Sorry for any translation mistake.

Cecile Marre


Slowly, an iridescent mist unfolded before his body, and deeply moved, I beheld the slender shape of his paws, his thin body, and his delicate neckline. The fawn emerged from Evan's heart, and the small transparent animal soon stood alive on the terrace, joyful of being free at last, prancing up and down, joining his four legs to leap in the air and hopping all around the platform. As before, his presence filled me with emotion. It was truly a little marvel this reflection of unparalleled purity, mischievous, shining like water, which reflected on his body all the fullness of the sky and the light of dawn... I let him frolic for a moment before calling out to him, and when he heard me, he froze.

Unlike the first time when his looks had contained only curiosity, this time I read fear. He stared at me, his eyes widened; he stopped breathing, and his slender legs began to tremble. My heart broke. With difficulty, I held back a powerful wave of resentment against the cruel monk who had wounded him and lowered my gaze to the ground. When a reflection has been wounded by a cursed gaze, it must first be spared further exposure, and that is how it is done. "Evan," I whispered, eyelids down. "You have nothing to fear from me. See, I'm here. I'm not going to look at you or touch you until you're ready. Come and inspect me." And I waited with my face turned to the ground, chanting the incantations of blessing to the reflection. I had to wait a long time for the little animal to find the courage to come one step closer to me and turn around, leaping backwards as soon as I breathed in. I could only see his leaps out of the corner of my eye, but they made me smile. He was so lively and agile. When he had inspected everything around me, my back, my sides, looking up at my neck and smelling my feet, I extended my energy towards him and felt very gently that his fear was indeed diminishing. Then, I resumed: "In a moment, I will look at you. And my gaze will heal you." He froze again when he heard my voice, and even more so when he heard my announcement. I gently raised my head. It was the most delicate moment. If fear prevailed, he would flee, and would only have one more painful memory of this episode. I softened my gaze until it became a great lake of peace encompassing the whole valley and including the small translucent being. As soon as our eyes met, fear spread in him with the promptness of a pennant in the wind, the outrage that had been done to him, the terror that it would happen again. But did I mention that he was brave? He was brave. He stood firm. His slender legs began to tremble again, his flanks to sway—but he stood firm. And, little by little, as he saw that there was nothing in my eyes but the purest intention, the sweetest compassion, the deepest acceptance, he relaxed. He ceased to constrain himself to immobility, advanced towards me and brought his curious snout closer to my face. When the gentle energy he radiated touched me, tears came to my eyes. I did not even have to consciously bless him. The gentleness of his energy, the beauty of his little miracle stirred in my heart a wave of spontaneous tenderness and wonder that touched him with the same force that Andrew's hatred had touched him. He opened his eyes, delighted. I smiled at him and said, "Yes, young Evan. This is who you really are. This is what your reflection inspires in others." The fawn stared at me in amazement, and the more my blessing entered his heart, the more his kindness unfolded, his gentle natural energy of benevolence and joy. When he had drunk my admiration to the brim, the gratitude burst out of him in the form of an uncontrollable joy that he could not understand: he began to frolic on the platform, jumping between the shadows and the rays of sunshine, retreating like kittens do, leaping like a spring, and finally jumping over me as if I were a playmate or a bale of straw.

That's how Evan's reflection came back to light.
Ever present origin
In this extract, the young man of the previous piece is now a grown up, and speaks with his own voice. It's part of a novel and my fictional interpretation of the "Ever present origin". Cecile Marre


Evan's journal

You can only understand me, and understand what I mean, if you take the time to feel this sensitive truth around you, on your skin, in your lungs, above your heads and in the privacy of your cells :

the field that unites us bathes all beings and things.

It' s it that connects the spider and the cat,

the millenary rock on the sunny mountain and the ephemeral cloud carrying the beneficial moisture

and you, and me, and even those we believe to be our enemies. Even the one who wants us dead.

We all bathe in the same water, and that is why, by doing harm, we only dream of our own destruction.


Unwoundable self
The same character speaking of "unwoundable self"

Evan's diary-

Our true nature is a vibrant transparency. Not a story. Not an identity. A pure stream of light.

They come to me and I see them. They come with a story, with wounds, and talk to me. They are real, these stories, even more so these wounds. They are so real that they break my heart, and love springs forth to heal from a place in me that has its source long before me.

But at the same time, I know :

This person is not a beaten woman. He is not a man who has failed. They aren't a boss, a farmer, a baker. She's not a Southern Liu. He is not a Western Kema. That is not their true nature.

Their true nature is a reflection as splendid, fragile and inalterable as the reflection of the sun in the clear water of a river. Something so beautiful that they could barely stand the sight of it. And that is why they do not believe in it and turn their eyes away.

But I see them. They come to me and I see them. And when they give me enough time, I show them.

(Evan's Diary, notebook 5)-