Posted in Photography, Poetry

Tired Souls-Fading Youth

How tired you make me.
I grow weary and old when I am supposed to be young and full of dreams.
I feel as if I have lived a hundred years, so exhausted does my soul and heart bear down on me.
But I have not even truly lived yet in this one life.
There has been no grand love or even grander adventure.
There has been no freedom from this pain and heartbreak.
Only this staid life in exchange for a paycheck I have been told is what brings happiness.
And I…I have been to scared to seek more because of the whispers that scream I’ll fail.
Because of the screams from those that failed that whisper back I am not enough.
It feels as if my soul has been bleeding out for eternity, a slow and painful death.
Until I am gasping for air out loud because I cannot hold it back.
My heart beating louder with each breath, a faint ringing in my ears over and over. Each beat the same set of words of living with hopes of peace and freedom.
I cannot go on as I have any longer. I must let go of what was and instead carve out a life that is mine in every way. I must be be young even though I am old. And old even while I am young.
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?