The Poet's Daughter: 🌿 Chapter 4: "Blessed Be The Beast In Me"
Lucid Dreaming, Waking Mind, Rabbit Hunting, Stars
Welcome
Hello! I’m Emily Lupita. I’m a travel writer & artist from rural Iowa currently living between my hometown south of Des Moines - and Ankara, the capital of Turkiye. I’m also an English teacher & editor.
The Poet’s Daughter is a nonfiction project (in progress) on - Emily Lupita Explores - acreativity journal where I share explorations from my art desk & cultural travels, as well as motherhood with my two Autistic sons. You can read more about my father and his bardic poetry + creative work on - American Bardic Poet.
Emily Lupita
The Poet’s Daughter
Work In Progress 2024
Chapter 4: Blessed Be The Beast In Me
“Blessed Be The Beast In Me” delves into the intricate relationship between a daughter and her poet father. It explores their shared experiences, including her unique upbringing in a secluded, minimalist lifestyle, their shared fascination with dreams, and the blurred lines between reality and the subconscious. The daughter, as she grows older, grapples with the impact of her unconventional upbringing. She questions the choices her parents made and seeks to understand the reasons behind their lifestyle.
Through her own experiences and dreams, she begins to appreciate the value of her unconventional childhood and the profound influence her father's philosophy has had on her life. The story highlights the power of dreams and the interconnectedness of individuals. It explores the concept of lucid dreaming and the potential for individuals to access other dimensions of reality. Ultimately, the story celebrates the enduring bond between a father and daughter and the transformative power of art, nature, and the human spirit.
Chapter 4: Excerpt
“The silhouettes scatter against the sunset. It grows dark and the moon and stars come out. We carry the rabbits to a clearing on the hillside. The moon and stars give us enough light to see. We lay the rabbits out on the hillside, and the poet shows us how to snap their necks and cut off the fur. I am not strong enough to snap necks, so I pick up the severed heads as they fall to the ground and gently place each one on the hillside as the poet and Jdia work. When they are finished, the poet and Jdia can see that I have arranged the heads in the shape of a constellation in the sky above us, the Big Dipper. My father begins to weep. He holds our hands as we stand next to the heads. We stand in silence and wait. We look down at the rabbit heads in the shape of stars and we look up at the stairs in the shape of rabbit heads. We lift our hands out together as my father’s poetry arrives, as the words fall down from the sky like shooting stars:
Blessed be the beast in me when it is my head that lies upon the hillside / as my spirit waits with the trees for that wind to come at midnight.”
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