Small Issues
When she unlocks her heart
It all comes out
Pouring in a stream
Without seeming end
Everflowing, not always like a river
But rapids
Frothing and bubbling
Heart flushing out poison
Like after a hard night of drinking
When a friend holds hair back
And all the ugliest, nastiest parts roar out
Pushed , upchucked
Without control.
Outflow of bitter
Salt of tears
Tears, unsewn, sometimes ripping bigger
Sometimes just bearing it
The worse for wear.
The fabric of her soul
Is often many-layered
And multi-hued.
Rough-spun jute
Next to softest silk.
But today, as heart is opened,
The key misplaced,
She cannot hold back.
Dizziness and nausea take over.
Silk is torn and waves like a flag.
She raises hands, in supplication
Before holding onto the nearest
Steadying object, be it chair or rail.
Hope arises
for sweet beneath bitter
for clean, warm blood
pumping with life, and flowing purely
for feeling clean after all the poison is out.
She knows it is there, deep down under
muscle and tissue
She knows
light-filled energy is
somewhere shining
in a low rock pool
right around her solar plexus.
"How we only need,"
she thinks.
"To work out
a few small issues."
Relief
And exhaustion
Take over
As she reaches
for tissues
to wipe away pain
and lie down to rest.
There is some down time
before the next test.
Feb. 2014