There’s a curve with this one, for sure
no cure all, just climbing walls and small mountains,
exorcising phantoms. I’m shaking the
heavy weight of my mistakes
and it wakes me from this slumber
sliding me into wondering.
Fondling old hopes from
every scope in my every blunder,
percieved or real. Feeling nostalgic, but
from a distance. Ship to shore, nothing more than
my previous pages and some softened raging.
Things that used to keep me caged
are now platforms for raising me.
And it stopped the unraveling of my heart strings,
gave me those wings and
opened my throat so I could sing like this. In a
melded combination of a hiss and a kiss. Lifting off
into a shifting, arriving at an awareness that is part
terrifying and part bliss. Part forsaking and
part awakening.
That multi-faceted fog is lifting, slowly revealing to me,
the reasons for navigating darkness at this pin prick
point in my my life, dancing towards cronedom.
Greying hair and looser skin, bright eyes and the
darkest grin. Done with living someone else’s lies and
having to survive like Alice, drifting on my own crying.
Inspiring me to burn brighter instead of seeking shelter,
no matter how much it hurts, not flying is worse. And
that’s when I use what I can as a raft, laughing
maniacally because I can see that I have to do this, I
can’t depend on my wish list. I take the broken parts
and glue, filling and building that platform, or
ladder if you will.
I like to purge and upcycle with gratitude as I
flex my fortitude
and coax my attitude to drop the knives and stop biting.
It leaves me lighter for flight and my
eyes wider for seeing.
My mind opened for believing and my
heart healed for feeling.
