hiding

Tags

hiding, hurting, ptsd, scared

sometimes i hide in you
and God damn.
i hope that’s okay

heavy tears

Tags

goodbye, grief, pain, poem, transition

i’m really angry
that you left
and
i fucking miss you.

no ball, no court

Tags

flyaway, Journal, poem, transcend

there is no ball
and
there is no court.
there is only net.
nothin but net.

flick the flicker

Tags

breathe, change, flame, gone, ignite, Journal, poem

i’ve been trying
to blow out this candle here
but i hardly have the energy
to exhale
that little flame
has somehow trapped my concentration
in too deep a meditation
and really…what is it?
a little flicker?
so i have to just
flick this flicker
to move this flame
remove this flame.

afterall, it was the spark
that i created.
so i just keep flicking myself
flick the flicker

just some little part of me
glowing out there
yet such a distraction.

causing me to forget that
i am the fire

i can fly

Tags

change, fly, goodbye, grief, loss, transformation

and so its time to run.
run harder.
i buried a brother,
reignited another,
and watched my feet
soar in splits over
some hurdles.
so now, if i run even harder,
i will leap even farther.
maybe i can be peter pan for the day.

no more black magic

Tags

black magic, ego, goodbye, growth, identity

he asked her,
“do you believe in magic?”

and she replied,
“have you found yourself yet?”

he hated being dismissed.
but he was.
*pooooooof*

amongst the redwoods

Tags

bury, hold on, Journal, mythology, phenomenology, poem, rebirth, redwoods, transform

as soon as i smelled nag champa
it was like breathing in
a visual wave of images
from a time ago

of colors
and free wind
and flowers all around
and like the ephermal whisp
i transported for a moment
to a version of my fairy child
from years ago….

she’d been buried
before this …

back when i had to bury you,
i was left with this
thick and disgusting mud
all over myself.
my wings broke off
from the unbearable weight
and the stench even singed
some scars on my face
it’s like

i buried myself
burying you
and all i really wanted
was for you to live

i thought the path home
would be lined with gold,
with flowers, and I’d skip
through some canopies, delighted!
but instead,
it was horrific and dark,
covered in mud and leaves and bugs
crawling thru caverns and sharp shells and rocks
whilst trying to remove
this false layer of self
that served as some kind of protection.

yet as i journeyed
i grew.
taller.
much much taller.
all these concentric rings
formed around me
and though my feet were
moving slow as molasses,
my spirit was carrying me
upward
into the heavens.

and so,
i bid farewell
to the innocence of
my fairy world dreams
where everything was
quaint and tiny…

as I’ve reemerged…

here.
in this new world
so very very tall now
amongst the red woods

basil

Tags

basil, friendship, goodbye, horticulture, hurting like hell, Journal, love, plant, poem, sad

i know you’re gone
but i will keep
watering
your basil plant
like you asked me to.

i always wondered why
you didn’t eat it.
you said you didn’t want to, yet…

maybe it was for me.
so i could keep caring for you
somehow.
even when you were gone.

birds in cages

Tags

againandagain, attraction, birder, birds, breakdown, codependence, detachment, gone, let go, letting go, poem, surrender, transform

some [things] found
when intention
is
liberation

some [things] lost
when intention
is
contraction after attraction

note to self:
watch out for those birds stuck in cages

spilled milk

Tags

adage, cry, effort, experience, feminism, growth, phenomenology, strength, transformation

some old adages one can only learn thru experience:

1. a chapter can be too short
2. an absence really is a presence
3. a heartache is a mass of its own

but one that i’ve learned to be false thru experience….

4. no sense crying over spilled milk

….
no, friends. there is sense crying over spilled milk.
any nursing mother would concur. that takes some energy and time and effort. and the baby screams when there is no milk
so to whomever said that …. perhaps you never made milk. perhaps you weren’t there to console the baby that was waiting for that milk. thats my guess. someone else made milk for you and you devalued it and never made it for yourself.
[ side note: maybe thats why the milkman got so popular anyhow. he seemed to understand. ]

so go ahead now…

cry.
cry over your spilled milk.