I live my life through the words I write
You describe a weight
hanging from your body,
and your desire for it to release, and lift.
I see the weight you carry.
I carry part of it with my own arms
whether you see me brace my body under it
or not.
I, too, yearn to see it release and lift.
Until it does, we will carry it together.
My breath is here to support me,
staying close at hand,
a gentle friend to call upon
in times of need.
I have needed her
in the late night and early morning hours
yesterday, today, to guide me
away from anxiety,
back into reality.
Please, breath, stay close to me.
I need you now,
and always.
I take at least a dozen breaths,
formulate in my mind what I want to say
typing it out,
erasing, and typing it out again.
This is a safe space.
I ask the question.
How do you know when
you need more than just self care?
Reactions range from widened eyes,
to nodding heads and note-taking,
but him; he offers empathy.
We hardly ever need an engine replacement;
maybe it’s just an oil change or a tire rotation that we need.
Muted on the microphone,
I tremble and quiver in my thick wool sweater
as a tear slides off my cheek
and lands on the keyboard.
It tastes good in the moment
a perfect fit into all the right receptors
to provide comfort,
and love.
More must be better than a little
so indulge,
and comfort it will continue,
until it’s gone.
When you’re left, at the end,
feeling unlovable,
love yourself the hardest, then.
To slow down enough
for it all to catch up;
the stress, the sleepless nights,
the self-neglect,
means sitting with the pain
for a while
until it dissipates.
My face often gives it away;
how I’m really feeling
without a need for accompanying words.
Lately,
it tells of inner turmoil,
expectations too high for me to reach
and overflowing from my plate,
excessive concern and worry
and wishing that things were different,
that I was different.
Raised, reddened bumps
with under-eye shadows
and a new crease or two I do not recall before;
they really tell the story.
Pull me back from the routine of hustle,
racing against time to optimize productivity,
working fast and diligent
because I am the only one.
Pull me back from the hustle,
make me slow down enough
to have a conversation of leisure
with you.
Remind me of other worthy goals
besides the numbers and dates.
Pull me back to myself
like only you can.
Dawning Words 