I live my life through the words I write
Showered by the wind
fresh, new air washes over every inch
of my indoor acclimated skin,
blowing away residue of emotions, thoughts,
clinging to me still.
Walking into and with,
I feel the power of the wind
penetrate deeper than skin,
marveling at the strength to accomplish this,
a force I cannot see.
I feel renewed,
wiped clean as a slate to start again.
Morning of quiet
sitting in peace with my thoughts.
Rejuvenation.
Time is all I need
just a little more time
alone, with my thoughts,
and dreams to fill my mind
with love, and the painful beauty
or what could have been.
See what happens
when you open the door
let your thoughts fly out
and share them?
There’s a chance of being hurt
but more,
a chance to be free.
One foot
in front of the other
over and over
will walk you away
from the thoughts and voices
telling you
you are not okay.
What would you have said to them
if, the last time you saw them,
you had known
it would be the last time?
Work it out,
like a tangled, tight knot
in the back of your neck
that when your fingers land on it
after searching across skin for miles,
it’s like finding buried treasure.
Flex the fingers,
open wide the treasure box
then dig deep, down,
until you find the bottom.
I find buried treasure all over
and throughout my body,
but this large box before me
was difficult to open.
My flexed fingers digging in deep
will show me what’s inside,
for everything is treasure
if viewed with an open mind.
Trying to find the words
I want to say to you,
and nothing but the raw,
honest truth can capture
my thoughts appropriately.
Except,
to say the raw and honest
might destroy both of us.
So instead,
I toss around a few safe and
common words,
but mostly say nothing at all.
I tell myself, ‘it’s better this way’,
but my ruminating thoughts of you
lead me to believe otherwise.
One whole person
cannot fill your cup completely
other than you.
One you can fill your cup,
which cannot sustain with only one
ingredient.
Explore, discover, ask,
how different people, places, thoughts,
can fill your cup
in a combination so unique to you,
it dances back into your eyes
like a mosaic,
imperfectly perfect.
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.
Dawning Words 