There are Days I’m Not Ok

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There are days I’m not ok
Or hours
Or minutes
Or breaths
The doubt suffocating
Grief a scream locked deep in my chest
I am reminded I am making the right choices
Shown proof of it again and again
Did you know the right things can
Sometimes feel so terribly wrong

Sometimes the fear rises
The paralyzing fear of all the ugliness
I so desperately seek freedom from
You never believe you’re conditioned
To feel you deserve abuse until you are
Until your stomach drops as the energy changes
And your breathing quickens
And you start calculating how bad their rage will be this time

Words bruise so much worse than fists
The self doubt stripping your confidence
The gaslighting destabilizing reality despite
Your inner voice calling out the lies in all of it
Knowing that there is no defense when you
Are forced to wear the badge of victimizer
Despite being the real victim
Because it makes them feel powerful and justified
Emotional abuse is a mind fuck of the worst degree
And some people make a career of the art of it

In this breath
This minute
This hour
This day
I am not ok
They say I will be someday

-gws

Generational Trauma

Do onto others as you wish to be done onto
This is the call
Cast off the shackles of
Abuse
Neglect
Mistreatment
Harm
The scars that mar your ancestors
The scars that mar you
The greatest gift given in life
Free will
Wield it like a craftsman
Hold it like a pen and
Rewrite your story
Erase the patterns from your pages
Show your children that you
Can reshape the stars in the sky
Show them how to heal in the light of the moon
And the bright beacon of day
No future is written in stone
No fate inevitable
Let it begin here
By deciding the pain of the past
Ends here

-gws

Liminal State

I exist in a liminal state
A being
And not a being

Grief ebbs and flows in king tides
Emptying me
Submerging me
Stealing away my breath
With its pressure changes
Feelings grow in question marks
Within my hollow chest
Proliferating like fungus in the fall
Inside of my being that is not a being

Emptiness overflowing with nothingness
Destruction and restoration
Warring to fill the immeasurable void
Shaped like my cremated heart
Pulsing with unfathomable aching
Testing the tolerances of
My being that is not a being

It is surreal to be and not be
To experience the reality of the question
Posed by Master Shakespeare
In rhyme and sonnet so long ago
To understand that one can be both
A being and not a being

-gws