Leaving Prison Behind

The rush of anger

Tastes like pennies

Bright shiny copper disks

Submerged in vinegar

The suddenness of fear

Sounds like breaking glass

Brightness spilled across the floor

Vinegar running into cracks and crevices

The beauty of exploration

Of entering into something new

Halted by the torrent of words

Slamming into a young heart

Layers of dust mark

Where exploration once lived

Beauty retreated 

A never-ending list of doing

Dreams languished
Locked in her prison cell

Where to go from here
Where is up from this haunted place?

Palm imprinted
With clutched freedom

Breezes tempt
One foot in front of the other

Walking into something new

When the Dark Comes Calling

Weary

She stays up

Propping eyes open

Aching

She fights sleep

Oblivion too tempting

Lonely

She wants light

Dark fears exposed

Lately I seem to be able to write only the first half of posts and poems. The dark ideas, the tormenting thoughts, the secrets. I can't seem to write my way into the light. I know that not everything has to have a happy ending, that sometimes this is where I am in the process. It doesn't change that light is there or that hope still whispers to my heart. I hesitate though to push publish on things that are only dark, or mainly dark. Pieces that don't have a balance between dark and light. Posts that like me are still in process.

I can't be somewhere that I'm not though. I can't be someone that I'm not. And who I am right now? She's fighting the dark. Some of that is because of the time of year - which if I ever figure out why my brain implodes when it does would speed up my healing by leaps and bounds. For now though I am looking to be content in this space. To practice acceptance of my whole self - including the darkness that takes over twice a year, every year for as long as I can remember.

I've tried fighting back. That only exhausted what little resources I had left. I tried giving in. That fed the darkness and it held on longer. That leaves me with acceptance. Choosing to see into this space, to reframe it, to see the beauty in it as it is right now. Shadows are cast by light, even when I cannot see the source.

Five Minute Friday: Release

Linking up with Lisa-Jo Baker for Five Minute Friday. A place where we come together and write for five minutes, blurting our unedited words and then linking up. 

Release

Deep red crescents score the palms of her hands

The panic she feels behind gritty too tired eyes mounting

There is too much and not enough

She feels too much and not enough

Her weakness is hanging out like an untucked shirt

Weary she drags herself into another day

The blinking cursor mocking her sluggish brain

One word, then another

Pulled from the depths of her soul

They begin to spill faster

Followed by tears slipping down her cheeks

This is her release

Where her heart breathes and freedom is born

Holding Hope

This day I hold hope
Arms raised high
Her banner crisp, clean
Visible for miles

This day I hold hope
Heart wide open
Love as water
Pouring over thirsty souls

This day I hold hope
Arms weary, drooping
Her banner tattered
Unseen

This day I hold hope
Heart aching
Tears mixed with snot
Soaking into the ground

I have held hope
Through joy and heartache
Through sorrow and splendour
Only now does it occur
That hope has held me.

Patterns and Cycles

Bewildered
How did we end up back here?
Arms curled around the empty ache
As if to somehow hold myself together

Weren't we happy, connected, together?
Growing towards one another

Wrenched apart
Walls slammed into my face
Silence echoes
Mocking
Tearing at our bond

Pushed away
To stumble and fall
Blame rains down on my heart
From lips that once spoke affirmation

Defending the fragile nature of my becoming
From one sworn to cherish
Bruises would feel like welcome relief
From the battering of criticism against my soul

Intimacy has fled
Chased out
Time poured into everything but us

I exist
Shrouded in loneliness
Huddled against the shame
Trapped by unreasonable expectations

The dam breaks
Tears spill from swollen eyes
Recognition
Dawning awareness

Grief-stricken apologies
A return to different choices
The bond repaired, rewoven
Until the next time.

Depression (An Unfinished Poem)

It calls to me
Seductive whispers
Teasing my heart
False promises
Preying on weakness
My weakness

Thin inky cords
Soft against my wounds
Wrapped layer upon layer
Strangling
Cutting deep
Rubbing raw

Fight, flight
Cords tighten faster, harder
My heart weeps
Body limp
Mind listless
Eyes unseeing

Untitled 1

Her brain stutters
Pulled from sleep
Relentless pain
Forcing her awake

Pills and cold packs
Sitting quietly in darkness
Distracted by stories
Her only choice to wait

Wait for the swelling to subside
Wait for the pills to kick in
Wait for the relief which may not come
Wait to return to the healing bliss of sleep

The Day Before Freedom

It itched
That place of being captive
yearning, straining for the new
Life-changing
hidden around the corner

Anticipation and nerves
Hurry, hurry, hurry
Waiting for it all to blow up in her face
The other shoe had to drop
didn't it?
Could it be different?
Would this plan work?

Heart-set, defiant, resolute
Her sanity, her soul
dependent on tomorrow's sunrise