I am a medicine unto myself
from the earth I rise
bringing down the airy heights
living side by side
inside I am alive
in me life breathes!

I beat feet
to the rhythm
that lives within silence,
where all begins.

Say, heart, that was a shock

that was a shock to the system that got nervous

some never recover but we do, we can , we are -

Say, heart... that was unexpected and violent
air plane crashes and dead body smells
sandalwood roses and milk sweets

Say, Heart
that was a new kind of feeling
England in the countryside and hedgehogs squished to pavements
Swimming after fogged up bus rides
and Bob Marley in the white Golf.

Say, Heart that was pretty cool
watching the London Eye go up on telly
then seeing it outside
then a school with swapsies and teachers checking to see if you ate
and a sister waiting in the chair next to me

Say, Heart
11 schools later
aren't you glad we saw them all?

Say, Heart
how many times did we crack before we broke open?
and I whispered that we'd be ok as long as we kept moving
and now we know that clinging to moments is what makes the pain worse..

Say, Heart
I feel you beating now after so many times searching for a pulse and finding something else there instead.

the oozing of generational lies
and slaps that turned green
along with the screams and I feel that we are all screaming
we are all screaming
silently
into the blankets on frosty january morns or into our 10th cup of tea to drown out the cold

into our tiger teddybears or elephants stiched in pink,
perhaps it'll be our CD's that reminded us of home, when we're on a far off continent where pain lurks around us and the children are crying at the top of the stairs
and kidney failure is just round the corner but how could we know?

That glass shower doors were yet to be smashed and police cars were yet to have left and guitars were yet to have been bartered
your love for a 6 stringed instrument that is a sacred therapy

And Say,
Heart
we were told that staying silent was proper
and the sound of our voice too loud

children should be seen and not heard
emotions are weak and blood or lust is front page news


Say, Heart what do you make of that?
No wonder those eyes are twitching just slightly ,
and the nervous system never really calmed down,
the setting of the perfect storm
to rain mystic myriads of inner dimensional travel
because yes, ultimetly it's my greatest teacher

but
trauma doesn't just fade.

Trauma doesn't just fade.

Trauma doesn't just fade
until we let it, wadda say heart?


Say it Heart....
Say it Heart....
let it out, sweet, dear Heart..
Say it..... Heart.

A chronic disharmony
clutching at the skull inside my flesh and the stomach unfurling in a perfect illusionary storm

sometimes i would wonder if i would see them in the street or what they would say about me and gasp in pain as the tyrants who lived in my belly chuckled at the residual aftershocks from an event that passed , at the height of it's rule , just over a year ago.

slowly with each breath i breathe i bring myself to a place of still resourcefulness
to react to that situation in a way that does not impale my sense of self nor rob me of my right to be
and that is my freeness
that only I can bestow unto me.

Reading the air , salt hanging on the lips of this breeze
current spray travels inland          far beyond beach dunes
rolling in
with the edge of a storm breeze and the unmistakable smell of
almost-ready-to-fall rain.

sweeping stories of deserts once visited, textured sand clinging---

telling the tale signs of weather movements
not yet visible upon horizons vision---

whispering soft respite in dank humid moments
a storm is hours away from breaking,
leaving in the same way whispers come,
quietly and unlikely to be repeated.

Then I
myself
create the slightest of particle movements
as I stride and sit
grin and ****.

Wrapping around me, scent of night
unheated air, falling coolness

I ignore the dinner party and breathe
a current spray, far from the beach dunes     kissing my olfactory system
almost-ready-to-fall rain's unmistakable scent
dressing me in anticipation

wisdom of these tides
sing deep within me
as the salt hangs on my lips
I read the air.

Reading the air , salt hanging on the lips of this breeze
current spray travels inland          far beyond beach dunes
rolling in
with the edge of a storm breeze and the unmistakable smell of
almost-ready-to-fall rain.