Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

Beautiful Predator

Staring into the glossy surface of the water, she lets the stillness flow through her as she kneels by the shimmering lake.

 

A slow inhale and even slower exhale as her body’s tension drains. Her feet and legs molding to the earth beneath her as they conform to her body. Earth and woman made for each other.

 
The sun shines exquisitely over her, making the volcanic veins just beneath her surface shimmer and dance. Her fingers sink into the shore at her sides as her head falls back into shadow with a piercing scream.

 
Birds scatter in the trees, small animals run a little faster, but the larger animals recognize their own. A predator in soft skin, with a shrill battle cry, one who is fire itself. They slink slowly away from it even as they envy it.

 
The water ripples outward at the sound, moved beyond measure to its depths at this creature above it. It can feel the pull at the shore line, the power in her hands, the call of her voice.

 
Drops of her blood meet the water as they fall from her nose and ears, but still her cry rings out. At the scent of her blood the larger animals scatter even further.

 
Knowing she is not only capable of immense love and kindness this predator in soft skin. But that she will set fire to the earth around her, blazing her own path, salting it after she is done.

 
Burning tainted bridges without hesitation and building steel in their place from her very own spine. Her cry fades away and the sound of silence reigns as the dirt on her hands mixes with the blood on her face.

 
She walks into the blazing sun, not caring of the eyes that watch, what is the uncaring weight of few when she is the hope and joy of many?

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

You are Not Welcome Here

You are not welcome here. With your hands like thorns.
With your arms like entrapping vines.
You are not welcome here.
With your mouth of poison.
With your words of despair.
You are not welcome here.
With your hands that shred.
With your arms that take.
You are not welcome here.
With your mouth of hate.
With your words of false love.
Go from this place, my body, my temple.
I will burn the memory of you to ashes when I rise from this misplaced self loathing.
Go from this place, my mind, my thoughts.
I will no longer give you the space you do not deserve, I will learn anew what joy is.
You are not welcome here in this moment or in my future.
You must go from this place and never return.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

Life’s Battles

Girls start out soft and sweet they say, quiet and delicate. But what if they came into the world as they meant to go on?

Screaming at the top of their lungs. Ready for any battle that may come their way. For the battles will come. And some part of them, even at birth knows this.

Boys start out stoic and happy they say, extroverted and sturdy. But what if they came into the world as they meant to go on?

Screaming at the top of their lungs. Ready for any battle that may come their way. For the battles will come. And some part of them, even at birth knows this.

What if we all started out as we meant to go on? Not in a box or as an idea. But just as ourselves. Screaming each day at the top of our lungs.

Our hearts filled with the madness and pain of living. But also, the joyfulness and laughter of life. We cannot fully experience one without the other.

For in madness and pain we find what truly brings us joy and laughter at our darkest moments. And if not for the joy and laughter we wouldn’t know what caused the madness and pain in us.

Life is a balance that only you can find for yourself. Start out as you mean to go on. Not in a mask or a cage of others perception. But screaming at the top of your lungs, in laughter, in madness, in joyfulness and pain.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

The Ruins

She, like a goddess of old, stood by watching as life continued beyond what had already passed. Aging with each passing day, knowing it would not last. 

She remained still like a statue, even when at times she could feel her heart breaking on the inside. The time had not yet come, so she became ever harder. 

There were those that brushed against her marble edges to test how far they might go, others still who lashed out with sharp words and deeds, creating scars within and without. 

The clouds shifted above her, days turned into nights, silver trails of tears tracked down her marble face, hidden beneath the moons soft comfort so those that caught a glimpse would always think it a trick of the eye. 

Her tears dried up and she remained in place, she no longer felt the pain as she had before, she was moving forward but solitary and confined, until the day she felt a soft as feathers stroke against her cheek where her tears once fell. 

She pushed it away, she had to many scars now and while she longed, she did not relish more pain, even the goddesses of old knew when to retreat, but it always came back. 

Each night, words whispered softly in her mind, a stroking, seeking, hand looking for the key to set her free, she fell in love with the voice and the words as it described a future with them together, she grew to long for it. 

She always responded in kind to the voice, sending her thoughts back their way, brushing her soul against theirs gently, she could feel the cracks in the marble grow larger, the vibrations reached her soul as the large wall she had encased herself in crashed around her.

Rising from the ruins she sought the comfort of the one who’d brushed against her, sparkling eyes met hers, as they too rose from their own pile of ruins.

Hearts and souls joined together as their hands and arms held each other, because sometimes the battle was worth the fight for a future free of ruins and scars that no longer bore a phantom pain. 

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Wings

I know you don’t know how much it means to me. The moments where you let me, be me, where I can stretch the wings I’ve had to wrap so tightly around myself.

I know you can’t fathom how it feels when I don’t hold back. When I am not less than to suit another’s needs.

I was learning slowly even before you that I did not need, nor did I desire a cage. Of mine or someone else’s making.

Why should I be less honest or observant? Why should I laugh more quietly, have fewer deep, rambling conversations at ten in the morning as often as I might at midnight? Why should I love less deeply, less freely then in this moment with you?

With you…it’s so different. You cannot see what my shadows hide. You don’t fully realize the pain I harbor and my demons don’t always play nicely with yours.

Yet still you stroke my wings when they are spread wide. Softly caressing the broken feathers and coveting the smooth and supple for yourself. Encouraging them when they falter with a smile or a phrase.

My wings grow ever brighter each day. They have become a shelter rather than the just the entrance to the storm. They can hold their weight and yours when your wings falter too. For I would gladly give my wings to you.

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More

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. Maybe it’s true, maybe it isn’t. 

But it’s true there are some that all you can see is the fractured glass on the verge of shattering. 

Looking into their eyes, you see what cannot fully be given a voice: fear, anxiety, pain, sadness…and so much more. 

You may not know the cause of each, but a part of you, the darker part of you responds to it. Like recognizes like. 

These people appear to fascinate those around them even as they scare them. For many of them are still a kaleidoscope of color more beautiful than words.

They burst with feeling and passion and fight every day whether seen or unseen to live in the moment. To ignore themselves for the sake of others and to survive. 

It’s almost a dance between two parts of a whole person. The side that longs to give in and shut down. And the side that pushes to succeed and thrive. 

And each time the pressure intensifies they feel as if they will break or they cannot sustain any more damage. 

But the cracks fill up with light and color after a time if they allow it. Their strength increases. And they become more:

More beautiful.

More caring. 

More giving. 

More kind. 

More than any mere words could ever describe. They are simply more than the most vivid imagination could picture or what any mother dreams for her child. 

They are a survivor. And you may think what do they have to survive? Their life doesn’t seem that difficult. But everyone has their demons and everyone has suffered loss in some form. 

Some more than others this is true. And each loss, whatever it may be, shapes a person. Their character, their personality, their ability to give and receive love. And they are more because of it. 

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Isn’t Real…Part 2

They cannot know the way it feels.
They assume you are disconnected.
That you are numb and have no feelings towards the outside world.

If only…if only I didn’t feel so much.
If only I was more disconnected.
If only at times I was numb rather then just blocking it out.

Instead I deal with words that slice my soul to shreds. That send my mind reeling so fast I cannot scramble up the muddy slope fast enough to withstand it.

Instead I try and retreat into myself, to regroup. To hold off the tears, to lessen the pressure, to avoid another night of pain.

But it isn’t in my nature to run. However ironic it may be that a broken person stands against a wave. That they can let the wave wash over them again and again, still managing to survive.

This is not because I cannot face these issues. It’s because I understand. I understand that those who send the wave are often themselves broken in some way.

That they have not yet learned how to handle this aspect of themselves. They have not learned to let the waves of life, big or small wash over them and still stand.

To push through each fall, no matter how much you have to gasp for breath after it is over. That being broken for a time does not make you weak and it does not mean you will always be broken.

But rather to remember that waves will always come, they will always crash, and you will always be left in the bright, soothing, dawn after the tide rolls out.

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Sweet Remembrance

My feet sinking into the sand.

The water lapping at my toes

The fierce waves crashing against the rocks.

The sound of children’s laughter floats all around me.

The spray of the ocean on my face.

The taste of salt on my lips.

The cool breeze whips through my hair.

The magnificent sun is starting to hide and it seems that the sky is alight with every color imaginable.

 

Everyone is leaving, but I stay to watch.

And as I stand there alone.

I think back to a time long forgotten.

To a time when I was a carefree child and the worries of the world had not yet hit me.

As I remembered a smiled played about my lips.

And as I watched summers end,

I realized something.

That although my carefree childhood days are over…

Life itself has only just begun.

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The Unknown

You are the voice inside my head. You are the blood that flows through my veins, and the breath that fills my lungs.

 

You are the water, earth, and sky. The green blades of grass that tickle my feet. You are the wild flowers perfume that floods my senses. 

 

You are the gentle whisper in the wind. The cool embrace of the oceans current. You are the mysterious sounds of the forest, beckoning to a sense of pleading to be explored, discovered by the children at play. 

 

You are the sparkle in the stranger’s eye. The smile of a shared secret between friends. You are the thrill of a first love. You are the memories of the past. 

 

No one knows who or what you are. Or when you shall appear. Because you my faithful friend are the unknown that the future brings. 

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Beauty and the Soul

Beauty and the Soul

She was beauty itself, she wore her sexuality like a cloak of the finest silk that everyone wanted to touch.
She brushed against many, teasing, taunting in her loveliness but few would know the bliss of her embrace, her lips and hands on them.
Many tried to grasp at her, tried to tear at her being and essence, but all failed, for it was as I said.
Her sexuality was merely a cloak that hid the magnificence of her soul, a soul the world would never be fully ready for.
I had never witnessed someone like her, and I never would again. She burned like the brightest of fires, but was a gentle caress of the sweetest nature.
One day she will remove her cloak, still fully intact from the greedy hands and eyes around her and give herself to the one that always saw what it was.
One day, someone will finally be worthy of a queen…