I live my life through the words I write
Back home
to reality
of the daily routine
mundane in comparison
to protected time in a bubble, for sport.
Back to the dishes piled high in the sink,
dust settled on the furniture,
the pen and paper on the kitchen counter
picked up every now and then
to note another to-do
not to be forgotten.
Back to the commitment
of, every day,
working to better myself,
carving away more marble from the sculpture
of the life I want to live,
bringing it into the light.
If you asked me where the last weeks have gone
it would take me a while
to remember, and answer.
Flying in the spaces
between the lines on the to-do list
to get there faster.
Planning for the future
making the most of time,
to stay in the present moment
will put me behind.
Today, the rush slows down
I can enjoy stillness for moments more
though it feels foreign to me now.
To stay on the surface is easy.
To find the still waters beneath;
beautifully difficult.
The cycle begins again.
The pain, the blood, manifests
throughout and outside my body.
I will watch my body swell with pulsing blood
and inflamed tissues.
I will hear her cry out in pain
as she sheds what no longer serves her.
I will feel her energy deplete
as she asks for stillness, for rest, for love.
I will hold her, nurture her, and love her
through the pain of release
as many times as she needs.
I grew up believing
in the black-and-white of right-and-wrong,
the this-or-that,
the all-or-nothing.
As I chase validation
I see my fear of living outside the box
as deviation.
I see now,
it becomes clear,
the opportunity to see continuums
rather than boxes.
What is right, or what is wrong,
depends on your perspective.
What is black, or what is white,
depends upon the shade of your glasses.
I want to live
in a space so vast I cannot see the walls,
with colors and sounds and open boxes
scattered, their contents spilling,
where everything is right, is accepted,
in any given moment.
Hovering over the page
filled with worry
of wasting my time
of producing nothing of value
finally, after all this time, realizing
that I don’t have to offer
what I believed.
I can no longer be afraid
of making shitty art.
Art is art.
Holding back, holding out,
for the perfect words to come
has led to weeks of nothingness.
Making the less-than-desirable, the difficult,
the imperfect,
moves me forward.
I don’t need to ask for permission
to try something new,
to experiment,
to try surfing a new wave
despite never stepping on a surfboard.
What am I here for in this life
if not to change, to flow,
to find myself over and over again
as she evolves from minute to minute.
I will follow her everywhere.
I lost her
I wonder where she went
why she felt the need to get away.
I have been separated from this page
it feels like an eternity
do I remember how to do this?
Extending compassion
into a space hollow and dark
offers light,
light to guide me back.
Forced to take a step back,
to slow down, slow way down.
My body has made it clear
she cannot keep up any longer.
I remember a time where I could do all this and more
but times have changed.
My body has changed. I have changed.
Tending to her injuries,
reinforcing the structural integrity,
I whisper apologies
and promises to do better, to be better.
Change has forced itself upon me
and I must accept it.
I am walking along an unmarked trail
through the forests of a mountain range
where tree roots extend and appear
at the tip of my foot,
where boulders roll down the hillside
kicking up dust to infiltrate my eyes,
where I look for any small sign
of grass and dirt worn down by feet before me,
for I have not seen a sign for some time.
I hear the calls of animals
jostling through the leaves and branches.
Though I cannot see them
i assume them as more powerful than I,
with strength, size and a desire to kill
I cannot match.
Trees close in on me
as leaves become thick and air becomes dense.
I welcome it.
The pressure slows down my racing heart
and forces my chest to unravel.
Weigh heavy on me.
The only way out
is to keep along the invisible path
I make with each step forward,
whether small, side-stepped or stumbled.
I will know lightness again.
Bring your focus to one thing, one task.
Put the phone down,
turn off the TV,
find peace in the silence.
Place a pen upon a sheet of paper
and write.
Write until your eyes see clearly.
Write until your head stops spinning.
Write until your chest relaxes.
Write for as long as you need.
Dawning Words 