Tag: poetry

Realizations of the soul

I closed my eyes to the sun. It’s early morning fire burning behind my lids. Do the Gods hear me?

I pray the heat ignites my determination. Keep moving forward, it’s the only place to go.

Pull the brambles from my cloak as I keep moving towards the light, away from this dark bog, fraught with prickles, poisonous thorns and things that bite from the shadows.

I call out, the echo answers.

Exhausted, my flesh longs to rest on the cool moss, allowing the bog to swallow me whole.

Slow through the mud, each step a 1000 pounds.

Will I find myself? Will I find the soul kin I believed were there? Was this all just a theatre for the trickster’s amusement?

When I was nameless, I could feel them, hear them.

I claimed my name, they faded violently from my grasp.

I open my eyes to the sun. Memories serve only to puncture.

The only message from the Gods is too keep moving, nameless once again.

Middle of the Night

Tired does not begin to describe

Torn does not even come close

You don’t see me

You don’t hear me, unless you need

It’s your need, your play ground

You say ‘I know you work hard’

But the list of to do becomes longer

You tell me how things should be

But wait to see if I lead, guide or just do

You don’t see me

You don’t hear me, unless you need

It’s your need, your playground

I repeat, I repeat so often

You say ‘how was I supposed to know?’

I am so tired, I am so torn, I am so hollow

You don’t see me, you don’t hear me

Pieces

Her voice came out in pieces.

Important words lost to silence 

Her meaning distorted by perception 

Her voice came out in pieces 

Soft words of understanding devoured 

Her own requests spat out like gristle 

Her voice came out in pieces 

The songs others wanted to hear 

Pulled from the fragments 

Her voice came out in pieces 

Although she thought she spoke well 

She came to understand it was in a language no one knew 

Her voice stayed whole inside her

Clear Eyes

The ground is shifting

Everything is moving, yet we have to be still.

Come together to agree to separate.

The language is frightening

The reality of how frail our system built around money has become. 

Lives of many have been sacrificed for the economics of the few.

We can feel the disconnect,

Fear sits in the place of loneliness

Money rules, the masses

Rewards the few

But nature will still prevail

To show how fragile we are when separated

What is she really telling us?

We have come together, collectively 

To sing to one another

Keeping distant, to remain together

She is showing us where the cracks are

Reminding us where the power lies.

Don’t be afraid

There is a stillness

The system is rearranging

It is uncomfortable

It is scary

But we have each other

Light on the Other Side

It can not be all tragedy, twitches and triggers.

This shadow work has also begun to highlight pieces of me that are beautiful, spiritual, mysterious, loving and strong.

My capacity to love is deep. I recognize wounds in others, I can see the best in most.

I want to be of service, I want to give a hand up or a soft place where I can.

I am creative, insightful and have a bawdy sense of humour.

I have an easy smile, and a big heart. I am inquisitive, I am intelligent. I am sensitive. I try to not pass judgment but to be understanding. I feel contentment just as deeply as I feel pain,

I am gentle. I am ferociously loyal. I love to laugh. 

I can feel the magic that surrounds me and moves through my senses.

I feel the elements, I have known peace.

I appreciate others, their talents, their stories.

It may take time, but I am resilient.

I am tenacious.  

I am sensitive. I cry, for joy, for sorrow, for pain, not just mine, but for all those I connect with.

These things too, were born in me, at the times the monsters were created. These things too were fostered in the same environment.

Sometimes the monsters win and I forget. 

But sometimes they don’t, and I remember, I am love, I am kindness. I can stand firm as a badass warrior. The battle scars earned, as are the moments of grace.

I will not be defined by my traumas and my mental health issues. I will be defined by how I live despite them. 

This mantra I repeat to myself often. This is why I share my story. Not for pity. Not for sympathy. Not for adulation.

But to connect. To inspire compassion, kindness and healing. To help someone find the words, as others have helped me (music can be my saviour), to soothe a damaged heart.

No, it is not all monsters and dark, it’s a wild mix of colour and light too. And I am so grateful for that.

Pillow Talk

Poetry dripped from her lips

rich, like honey

warmed by her breath

delicately teased a curious tongue 

Winding itself delicately, fluidly 

to your ear

a lullaby so sweet

you melt into its velvet deluge 

The pulse of the moon

moved her heart 

gentle waves 

of electric motion

Matching the beat

of the words as they flow

from the heart, the mind

the soul

Whispering of stars, 

reflected in the waters

realms known,

yet unexplored 

My Darkness

It swallows me whole.

I feel it pull me under.

My feet of lead

I fight to break the surface

Gulping for air

Reaching

Down I go again

It fills my lungs with sticky tar

My body heavy

It covers my ears

Silence screaming

Filling my mouth

Pushing in on me

My heart pounding

My fight slows

Each movement harder than the last

I reach

Nothing

No hands to grasp

No strength to lift

Farther down I go

The darkness now matching pressure

I let go

Give in

It slows the pain

Try to draw breath

Choking on the muck

Close my eyes

Heartbeat slows

It swallows me whole