Acknowledgement is the first step

My mind feels full.

Full of characters:
their personalities,
their thoughts,
and dialogue exchanged with others.

Full of phrases
simple and complex
to live in stories
or essays
or poems.

Full of scenes
replaying in memoried fragments
requesting reimagination
and depersonalization.

To empty my mind
on to the page
requires a vulnerability
that, right now,
feels insurmountable.
Fear of pain, of exposure,
of inadequately capturing
my imagination
with words.

Acknowledgement is the first step.

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.

a worthy journey

Steps small, steps slow,
are still steps taken,
progress,
no matter their direction.

Even if no one else is watching,
knows your destination
or knows the space you’ve traveled,
you do.
You know.

The journey is long, and slow,
and relies on you to find, and lead, the way.

A worthy journey,
a transformative journey,
to love.

with each step forward

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.