I have no interest in dating or lovers I think that part of me might be dead At least I cannot feel anything where that want should be It is a dead zone in my chest A hollow place A salted field that cannot grow life
I have too much healing to do So much work to do I need to learn how to TRUST myself again How to LOVE myself again How to BE myself again
Now is the time for quiet The time to feel complicated feelings Listen to the whispers of a broken heart A disillusioned spirit The time to grieve shattered dreams Relinquished hopes And lost futures
When the processing is complete The healing well advanced The distrust subsided We'll see where I am What I want What I need Who I am
I have befriended darkness I have plunged my fingers into the deep blackness Smelled its rich sent Felt its chill I have stared into its oblivion Wondering what is on the other side And I've felt it watching me back Equally curious It whispers of base things Lust Craving Need Reckless abandon Danger Ecstasy Seduction Indulgence Pleasure Pain I have felt it caress my skin Shadow spooning the light Defining my edges I am incomplete without it Its contrast necessary Reminding that there is no light Without darkness to define it
I have cried rivers To cleanse my heart Of the goods and bads of you In those waters I finally see my own reflection Haloed in sunlight Instead of your shadow
With awkward ineloquent rhymes I started breathing life into words I tattooed Onto untold reams of pressed dead trees When I was still learning how to tell my story I held too much inside I needed a pressure valve An escape hatch for my muted voice That had so much to say But hid from the light of day To hold space for my soul which felt so keenly I juggled words in my mind Like a magician rolls coins across his knuckles A dance of language Choreographed to the rhythm of heartbeats Raw and unrefined But as necessary as air I worried about those early musings Sure they were self-indulgent nonsense Important to no one but me But that was the point The words were important to no one but me The way they should be If others understood them If others were moved by them Then I was doing something extra that was right I gave my voice the space to tell my story Released my experience as art Defined by my own rules A baby poet learning how to Let her storyteller heart fly
There was a girl who was friends with God The girl was told God was a man in white robes But her God was a woman in a soft blue dress Who let the girl sleep protected in her arms Just the same as she held her own son
Words Wishes and Wisdom 