I don’t know what’s next
or when
all I know
is that where I am
is good for now.
Tag: poetry
small steps in the dark
For the part of my brain
that thrives on planning
having no concrete plan
leaves me wondering what to do
like putting one foot in front of the other
in a pitch black room
I have never been in before
earnestly reaching out for anything
any clue of place or floorplan
taking the wrong step
feels scarier
than taking no step at all.
Eventually
my eyes will adjust to the darkness
if only slightly.
I need to keep moving
somehow.
Small, cautious steps
are better than none –
I whisper to myself
over and over.
Rewiring my brain
thought by thought
step by step.
trusting life
Trust that life is unfolding
before you
according to a plan
even though
you do not know what the plan is.
Trust that the universe
supports you
and is supporting you
even in ways you cannot see.
Trust that things happen for a reason.
Some will forever lay
beyond your control
and maybe that’s for the best.
characters in a story
I thought about you,
I wrote about you
as though we were characters in a story,
and now that the words are written and saved
I can let you go
a bit easier.
put on a new show
The old is familiar
and mindless
but is that really what you want?
Expose your mind
to the never-seen-before.
It will be OK.
You know how to protect yourself.
You can explore new things
and maybe even
discover new joy.
Putting on your old favorite show
for background noise
ends up being what you watch anyways
for the eleventh time
and when it’s done
and the pages remain empty
you feel empty too.
Challenge yourself.
You can put on a new show
allow it to captivate you
and simultaneously
spark inspiration for your words.
You can have it both ways,
which is what you want, anyway.
Stop putting yourself in boxes
behind barricades.
You’re capable of more than you realize
or imagine.
listening to nature
I hear the birds and I hear the branches
I hear the vehicles and I hear the leaves
I hear the people, the animals
and the machinery to keep us cool
and still
I seek to understand, to objectify, to name,
to satisfy my mind.
When my mind nudges in
for a turn at the microphone
she reminds me, again,
of past thoughts, past concerns
and future anxieties
I am trying to let fly away with the birds
I cannot see.
I hear these sounds,
I hear the music they orchestrate
but apart from the trees and leaves
I cannot see their sources.
I cannot see their source
and yet they are there,
they still reach my ears
somehow.
They come and go,
bending off and into each other
seamlessly
as if following a score
or being led by a conductor at the podium.
They trust in each other.
I close my eyes, expand my ears,
trusting the sounds will reach me
in nature’s perfection
without a need for rationality or manipulation.
Imagine, just for a moment,
the freedom, the weightlessness,
the joy,
of trusting that life will unfold as it is meant
if we are open enough
to hear it
to receive it
and to accept it.
live for the moment
If you yearn to live for the moment
yet ridicule those
who live in the moment
in manners different than your means
you must learn to release comparison
and live for the moments
how you can.
numbness remains
I want to talk about what happened
but I fear it will hurt too much
to re-enter that space now,
days later,
like traveling back in time
to feel those thoughts and feelings again
so I can write about them.
I don’t know how
to assign words, to gift cadence,
to those moments of emotional overwhelm.
But I will try.
My lungs shriveled up like raisins
in a rubble-piled chest
unable to take a full, deep, expansive breath
for three days.
My heartbeat slowed as my nerves turned numb
retreating from sensation
towards any stimulation.
The panic, the pain,
the fear rose above me like a tidal wave
and crashed,
holding me down, in the water
and thrashing currents,
tossing my body as though it were
nothing more than a thin branch
broken off from a shoreline tree
in the wind.
I felt it all
in real time
for days.
The fear, pure and raw,
scared me the most
ironically.
Now, these days later,
my lungs are plump grapes
eager and able to take deeper breaths.
The panic, pain and fear
have settled like sand at the bottom of the ocean,
but the numbness remains,
uncertain if it’s supposed to dissipate naturally with time
or if its lingering presence signifies
issues remaining unresolved.
The more I talk about it,
the more I write about it,
the harder it becomes to dismiss
the truth pulsing through my blood.
The truth cannot be avoided forever;
it will not dissipate with time.
I must continue talking about it
I must continue writing about it
I must continue revisiting the vulnerability
of sitting in the spaces of purity
to understand,
and to move forward.
only my waves will hit me
I will not swim away or under from
cresting waves of my own making
or destiny
but I carry no obligation to anyone
to accept and withstand
brutality of crashing water
of their own making
when only by circumstance do I happen
to be standing in the projected path.
When a tidal wave comes
I can choose
to cling to my surfboard
to dive beneath the wave
hold my breath
and emerge on the other side
where clear, calm water awaits me.
nature defies stagnancy
It does little good to plan out ahead of time
how events will transpire
when you do not know
outside of this moment,
anything.
Everything changes. Change is the constant.
From minute to minute
we are reborn.
We may look ahead to the waters we can see
on our projected path
but have you never seen
the unrelenting evolution of water,
its constant movement,
even when the surface appears to be still
enough to resemble glass?
The waters will change by the time you get there,
as will you,
so tell me, what the point is, in
trying to plan and control for things
that do not and may never exist?
Those who attempt this control
allow heartbreak and anxiety and fear
to anchor them in the water,
though the waves and currents and flow of life persist;
nature defies stagnancy.
Relinquish the need for control
and watch the anchors reel back up into the boat.
Allow movement and fluidity and
uncertainty to become your allies.
You can trust them, wholeheartedly,
they will not abandon you
nor lead you to harm.
Trust in the constant of change:
the only constant we know.
Dawning Words 