Poetry is… No. 4

Poetry is reclaiming the voice 
from fear, doubt, and shame

-gws

Poetry is… No. 3

Poetry is triage for the
open wounds of trauma

-gws

Poetry is… No. 2

Poetry is the screaming
ache of the breaking heart

-gws

Poetry is… No. 1

Poetry is salve for the
philosopher’s soul

-gws

Dissonance

I so want to trust what you say
But you believe what you concoct
Making your lies into
A convincing-sounding truth
-gws

Remember How It Was Before

Remember how it was before
When I confidently walked through my life 
Believing in a future full of infinite possibilities
Idealistic and self-possessed
Inspired and free to manifest the life I desired
Never apologizing for the joyousness of my nature
Never apologizing for my independence and adventurousness
Never apologizing

Such a contrast with who I would embody for too long
Cowed and questing to find the right key
That would unlock your love for the me I was before
The me that I thought you cherished
The me that was once upon a time enough
I remember how it was before
I am on a journey back to myself
The version of me that resembles the echos of my unscarred self
Together we will offer an apology to the me that was before
A reclamation of what I thought was lost
And I will be a wonder again

-gws

She’s Not Beautiful

She’s not beautiful 
She’s a bloodied beast
A bold, brassy, badass
Bravely battling brash bandits 
Bone-weary from the bullshit
Burdened and burnt out
Building a budding new self
Walking away from brutality 
Becoming balanced 
Banishing bad habits from her bones
Barefoot upon the earth and beaming 
Beginning a brand new bountiful life

-gws

My demons tell me …

My demons tell me
I’m not enough 
They rake burning shame across my skin
Hiss monologues of self-doubt
In the echo chamber of my ringing ears
They use your voice
Never silent
And they laugh 
At the cleverness of their torture

-gws

Dueling

Asking for help often feels like failure
Like challenging my shame to a duel
Dueling with my shame is graceless and ugly
Inflicting a million tiny self-judging cuts  
To my compromised self-esteem

I try to grab onto the radiating love
When the call for help is answered
Letting that love eclipse my shame
Transmute that shame with humble gratitude
Into worthiness
I know those who offer their support
Do so selflessly because to them I am worthy
Even when I don’t feel so 

 -gws

Tendrils

The mostly dead tendrils of my heart want so badly to reach toward you, like water, when you say you miss me

They forget you are the drought that caused them to lie shriveled and desolate in the first place

I must always remind them of that

-gws