Undertow

“Unthink these thoughts…

“Stay to the shallow depths” they say.

Further still I drift away.

Can’t you see if I let go of these then I let go of me?

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Escaping Beauty

craft construct conform

do you string your words together or let them fly

and let them form:

unpredictable, wild and free, soaring high?

or is beauty in the selected rejection,

cultivated affected perfection?

is the beauty of the garden not in the flowers thereof?

but all we hear is the manicured battle cry of

I am an individual. I am unique.

Others employ a survival technique

bob and weave, bob and weave…

 

Is beauty seen from not only the paved path,

but also in the flowers that escape unscathed?

 

 

Unafraid of the wanting

Lost between

the mysteries

of yesterday and the promises of tomorrow.

Watching, knowing

where we are going, running

from the things that chase.

Peace flows through

the howling ache,

holds until the trembling weight

proves too much to take.

If no peace can be found, then

give me passion.

Passion to ward away the pain.

Passion to resist the lull of fear.

Passion to fight the pull of the ever-decaying decay.

Passion is more

than the one by your side,

it’s encompassing,

the whole of life,

leaves you unafraid of the wanting.

 

Winter Heart

When did the marrow in my bones turn so dark? It feels so cold.

If my heart’s not here, then how can I feel it freezing?

You wore it down.

You left this black hole.

You made a vacuum out of my soul.

I’m spiraling, losing me.

People don’t want to see suffering but I can’t live with any more nothing.

I don’t know how to get to you from here, but I see you clearly.

I’m spiraling yet you don’t see.

If I could find the sunrise would I still be frozen?

Surrender

My attitude towards life, for most of my life, could be summed up in a few words: What’s the point?

We all have some points or goals in life: education, sports, spouse, job, kids. Maybe those held for a time, but what happens when you don’t meet your own expectations? You didn’t finish your degree. Your marriage is crumbling. You wonder if your parenting is doing any good.

Do you classify yourself as unworthy? Leading back to …

 

What’s the point?

Even when it seems like anyone else could do it better, you are the only one who can be you. Maybe those 525,600 minutes are heavy, heavier than our hearts can bear. That’s when our passionate side must speak louder than the voices of apathy and pragmatism.

You could die tomorrow.

The majority of people will not die tomorrow.

You are not the majority.

You were born with a unique personality.

You were uniquely shaped by your circumstances.

 

Even when we know the truth, it’s difficult to surrender to it. What does it mean to surrender. So often, we have the wrong impression of what surrender is. Surrender isn’t about giving up and relinquishing our self.

Surrender is pressing forward even when we don’t have the revelation.

Surrender is finding yourself, even when you feel like you’ve never really known who you are.

Surrender is fighting for and protecting what’s right.

Surrender is being brave enough to stand and enter the ring despite the fear.

You are not the majority so get up.

Broken

You don’t talk anymore, tell me what to do. What broke your heart? Will you let me hold you?

When I look in your eyes, all the weight of the world seems bearable. All the pain and suffering seems senseless but I could weather it with you.

I see hope in you, and I forget my time has passed. I see the universe in your eyes. I see there is so much more to lfe, but it will never be mine.

 Half-breathed prayers and whispered dreams, if I lost it all I’d still find you there.

Switching Seats

Waiting,

your expectations weighing on me

I can hear the breaking of my soul, every time you look at me

Glass singing in the wind, not enough left to last too long

Should I show the math, explain the path from Y to Z?

There’s a reason that I don’t display every play, that I channel this emotion far away, self regulate.

I may be a creature of habit but my habits are my own… tell me is it blasphemy if I’m switching seats? It just makes it easier for you to remember me, and I’m not here to be seen.

 

 

The Caged Dream

It’s the folly of man to believe he can own a woman, that he alone can possess her heart.

Gilded though they be, the bars of her cage cannot hold what is meant to be free.

A prisoner of those bars with no means to fill the hole in her heart —

the unfound is forever lost, all of life is loss

always seeking, always weeping.

Passion imploded leaves rage and a bitter taste, pacing along the confines of the space.

 

Passion directed opens the expanses to be explored, unfurling wings to seek the unknown.

Wicked?

watching you watching me I look away, try to breathe

the warning in your voice urges me to leave, but I won’t ask you to prove what I already see, what I want, what I need

Maybe I am wicked, my heart falling apart, waiting to see the reflection of the lost hope, the fears I have hidden inside, to see I’m not the only one

I say this life too bold hands out years to tortured souls, years too far past weigh down the soft of heart with aching parts, immobilizing those for whom this life is not enough, yet still is too much

wringing wringing wringing my hands — tell me there’s some way bear these grating chains beyond throwing myself to the crashing waves because with this weight I can’t walk on the water, it only pulls me under

I’m just a lost girl and you see me, try to breathe