I watched Demi Moore in “A Scarlet Letter”, about 1996 or so, and I identified so closely with her role that I trembled.  I watched it thankfully alone, and became so immersed as to be almost transported into another realm.  I was the woman persecuted; I became this woman soul who had to be so strong in my skin in order to survive and not let other people tell me how to be me.  I had lost in two love relationships; I had lost my children in their early teen years to another household, another life without me.  I had lost my home, my busy life of bustle and fullness; I had lost my health to a great measure.  I felt criticized, ostracized, generalized by society, family, friends, and acquaintances.  I really had no one but myself.  After viewing the movie I realized that I had never given up, not really, and on the inside I was ready to bear whatever this universe needed to burden me with in order to teach me that I was master (well ok, mistress!) of my own ship.  I proudly decided that my ship was indeed a canoe, and I was ready to master the wind, the rocks, the rain, the rapids, the twists and turns, and then, continue on down the river.  And there really was a river, hidden back in away from the gravel road… I can still find it.  The bush is thick and there is a big, iron gate.  Whenever I pass by there, I always think of the fine, summer day when I hiked back the road past the gate, no one around… I kept going until I was far back in the forest and farmers’ fields stretched behind the dense maple trees.  It was a glorious place to skinny dip, and I had the body and the tan, and my long hair caressed my back.  I spent a long time swimming and floating, playing with the water under that blue sky.  Naked.  What freedom.  A good-looking farmer would have been very welcome.  Kind of like Adam and Eve.  Great memories.

The Scarlet Letter

I wear a scarlet letter like she did on her chest

But mine lies deep within and there are few at best

Who know the scarlet letter takes me

Where others never trod

And I have felt the sun’s rays deep, deep on my bosom

And gazed into the face of God.

It takes me where a babbling stream is cold and stings my hands

It cascades over rocks and brings the feel of another land

Within its icy shallow depths a spirit runs wild and free

And spills to the pool in front of me

It laughs and grins in glee.

I’m naked as I bathe in joy, a sin I let not be

I know the scarlet letter burns for me and thus I’m free

I, languid in defiance and quiet in solitude

But deep inside a fire rages and no one knows my mood.

There is a well of sadness forever present deep inside

Not any of religion’s promises have helped it to subside

I take shelter in a man’s lips and refuge in his soul

I let his body fill me deep, his manhood fills the hole

Of emptiness that penetrates each moment, every hour

Every day of every week is filled with a yearning need to pour

My love into someone’s depth and fill his every need

And watch the love light in his eyes and touch his skin with greed.

And so I let the water touch, caress, and tease and lick

I swim and let nature’s grace make me slippery, wet, and slick

As I swim my scarlet letter lies buried in my breast

Waiting, for the right hand, right touch, right smile

Right fingers gently pressed against my woman’s heart and soul

Is there one who understands?

A woman strong beside him and not crushed beneath his command!

A man touched by the Soul of God and therefore mild yet strong

His heart filled with manly love, his mind filled with loving song.

He can take that scarlet letter that I wear upon my chest

And realize that woman-kind needs a different kind of crest

He can make that scarlet letter come alive in crimson glory

And lay it at his beloved’s feet and tell her not to worry.

The letter comes to life now and the bloody battle ends

It’s done its job, it’s bled its way

My bitter stance begins to bend.

Watch it come to life now and its crimson glory spreads

My smile reveals the light within, no more pain or toil or dread.

I can choose to pick it up now, or to let it gently fall

I can choose to hear the night owl and heed its lonely call

I can wear my scarlet letter like she did on her chest

I can choose and I can be

Better, or best.

                                                                                                  cailin raine