I live my life through the words I write
Just as soon as I am laughing and smiling,
basking in the warm afternoon sun,
the clouds come back
and the fog settles in,
pushing me back down, down to the ground again.
In an instant everything changes.
How can it happen so fast?
I scarcely had time to enjoy being happy
before my mind took it away again.
Knowledge and behavior
relate and connect to each other in numerous ways,
but their connection is not direct,
nor guaranteed.
When the scale unbalances,
the ripples extend beyond the water’s edge.
Knowledge, thought, reasoning,
have always tipped the scale unbalanced for me,
casting waves upon the shoreline
drenching the stubborn human on the shore
who does not move out of the wave’s path.
But now is the time for change.
Now is the time to move my feet
around in the sand,
listening to and understanding the water
and responding to it.
Now is the time to shift the scale
back into balance.
I feel the noose wrapped around my head,
my mind,
dragging me around like a wilful-less puppet
telling me what to think, and how.
Dragging me along in the gravel
my body sprays small pebbles up and around,
ricocheting off all the people cowering,
trying to grab hold of me as I fly past.
Scrapes and wounds and blood
decorate my skin.
The noose loosens,
momentarily.
Strength remains in my legs, arms and mind,
despite the injuries sustained, scarred, and healing.
I will stand up, and resist the jerking tug of rope,
taking my hands to release the knots
and drop a limp piece of rope to the ground.
Tower over it, I will, casting my shadow,
resolving to remind myself
no matter how often it takes,
that the rope will not control me.
Maybe I don’t need to be here or there,
one place or another,
black or white.
There must be shades of grey in between
across the spectrum,
where we can still be together
but get as close to the black and white
as we can
without losing the grey completely.
Maybe I can have pieces of it all
without inflicting self-destruction,
without being all-or-nothing.
Maybe all I need to do is ask.
I cannot deny
the weight pressing on my chest.
It lingers
and the more it lingers
the heavier the weight becomes
until it crushes me.
I am mindful and present
with my frustrations,
acknowledging them
giving them power, more than they deserve.
Holding frustrations over situations beyond my control
weighs me down,
noticeably so.
Give them away
so I can give more of myself to you.
Give, in hopes that you
will give too.
Fill the balloon
with the exhales of anxieties.
Blow them all out
slowly
and forcefully.
Tie a knot
and let them go,
drifting into the clouds
and out of sight.
One day
you will come to forgive yourself
for the pain you caused others
and for the pain
inflicted on you.
I do it to myself
I know
playing the game of what-ifs
that never ends.
The lure of possibilities
never taken,
likely never to be explored
offers respite, a getaway,
temporary change.
The hard part
is coming back.
Fight through the urge
to turn around, to succumb,
when it feels too difficult
in the moment
to push through.
Push through anyway.
Feel the initial resistance in doing so
to then revel in the pride,
and happiness,
of taking yourself beyond the hurdle.
Push through
to feel the pride.
Dawning Words 