The Darkness

 

the blackness swirls around me

and plays with the colors of who I am

it threatens to take over

eliminating all that's beautiful

but I move with it

instead of resist.

I welcome the blackness;
the sorrow

to show the contrast of what truly exists inside of me;
love.

 

 

 

The Uses of Sorrow

(source unknown)

 

Someone I loved once gave me

a box of darkness

 

It took me years to understand

that this, too, was a gift.

evolution

I'm at a time in my life

where letting go seems to be the theme.

So I painted how it looks in my head

and how confusing it feels in my heart.

This is my vision of separation

my sight of distortion.

Some lines are clean and clear

but the change

the elements that are fading

and dissolving

remain fuzzy

during the transformation that is taking place.

 

I've realized that the pain of letting go

isn't attached to a person

or a relationship.

the hurt is born from the visions, hopes and expectations we hold on to

What is difficult to let go of

is what we create
what we have "seen" in our future
and what we have hoped for

not what we "have"

or have "had."

 

So as I navigate through a fuzzy life

I hold on to the sharp corners and curves

as they represent the parts of my life or myself
that won't change or go away

and I will wait for the fuzzy

to morph into new dreams

new experiences

and new relationships.

 

an ever changing life

an ever changing reality

an ever changing dream

my evolution

she stands as straight as she can

similar to a twisted tree trunk rooted in the earth

rough

strong

but weathered from the elements of life and world.

she feels her roots seeking nourishment.

she prays for and craves the healing and cleansing water from the sky

but she waits

and waits

a few drops fall occasionally upon her leaves and boney branches.

the bark of her skin soak up what it can

but not enough falls to penetrate the earth that keeps her planted.

she feels like maybe she's dying.

maybe there isn't enough to keep her alive.

until, she feels familiar roots that grow

intertwining with hers.

she can't see who wraps around her underneath

but she hears something in the dark hour that visits often.

it's a simple something

a something that sounded and felt like, "i am here."

 

she takes a breath

 

she starts to cry

 

and she is fed

He

This is my opinion of a man I call "He"


He has a light about him
that shines from his smile
and it's been felt in the touch of his hand
.....when he takes the time to touch
and it's been felt like electric shock from his body
.....when he sits still long enough to be held

His eye sight is selective
he hears what he wants to hear
his attention span is shorter than a minute
his ability to love is unknown
his past a wild one
his future a good one, if only he'd believe it were true

He battles and fights
but only with himself
it's not the world against him
not the past that haunts him
instead
just like the rest of us
it's his thoughts that manifest a devil
it's his insecurities and fears that keep him trapped
and unable to move forward

He feels like my man
but doesn't act like the man I need
he's distant
afraid
and destructive to my heart
in the absence of time, pursuit, and understanding

He is no different than me, really.
And we continue crawling in a web of confusion
hoping to understand
and heal from the hurt we've caused each other

He is someone I feel love for
he penetrates my mind
my heart
and lives inside of me
he fills my thoughts most minutes of most days
but existing outside of my body
and learning to survive and navigate inside of my world
he can't manage to do.

so it is.

Invisible

no one seems to see
no one seems to feel
no one seems to remember
me

more hours pass
alone
than accompanied
more hours pass
sad
than grateful

to be invisible
or to feel invisible
is not how anyone should feel

i crave someone who sees
i crave someone who feels
i crave someone that will remember
me

i feel like I'm screaming
and no one can hear me
in a soundproof world of only my own chatter and cries
both of the sounds and silence are deafening
only i am a witness to this madness


goodnight, 7/7. You were a mean lil day.