Dear creativity,

Write a poem on loss and let me feel the way it slips through my veins triggering salt water waterfalls falling from my face

Sit in the ocean with your hands around a stone that you pray Mother Nature doesn't need back today because it's the only thing grounding you to the chaos outside of the water

Climb a mountain just to paint the view because pictures never do it justice and you can taste the way the hills cascade and the clouds touch the horizon

Find an empty corridor of a pandemic stricken world and slip off your shoes so you can feel the floor beneath you as you move, dancing from one side of oblivion to the other side of you

Let your hair down and sing to the wild horses the song that sits inside like a metronome that doesn't turn off, in time that voice will find your soft side

Be vulnerable and be brave, the way your Mother always said, and tell the ones you love that they're never far away. Find time to sit in silence, and let your mind be still, for the things that bring out passion, are the things that truly heal.

There was a time before now, you will not remember much of.
You will remember recess, and your teachers
You may remember getting to run to school for the first time by yourself, knowing mom was watching you the whole way there.
You may remember birthday parties and social outtings before people wore masks and you couldn't play with the other kids
You might remember the playground
You might remember the restaurants, packed to full capacity

Now that times are changing,
I hope you remember PJs all day
Exploring and creating new worlds in the form of blocks
Homework with mom holding your hand the whole way through
I hope you remember the days we escaped it all at the river, far away from anyone else, just us and the water
I hope you remember the card games and nerf wars
I hope you remember the time you made a bike jump, and fell off it

I pray you remember the moments you're spending with your father, your best friends, the ones that love you more than anything

Times are changing my son,
And so are you

As you begin to explore new worlds, this world, I pray for you that you remember how far you've come
How far you can go

How lucky I am,
To be your Mother.

It is incredible, the journey. The not realizing you're on a journey until you have arrived at a place complexly different than the place you were before. There is no line that says "start here" and no "you are here" marker indicating you are, anywhere. And as time passes and moments just keep happening, every moment something is happening, and then at some point your markers changed, it's in a new place, and you have no idea how it got there... you realized you prayed, a lot, and start thanking God and every ounce of Divinity that brought you to your new place, a place that can see more clearly or hear with an iota of less resistance. A place where you aren't entirely consumed with the very thought of your existence. A place that you not only want to, but see how to, bring more peace. "Just focus on the next few steps." You start thinking about everyone you've allowed yourself to be with, actually, be, with since you started traveling on that journey. The moments that seemed so simple, and whole. One moment you had no words for what you were doing, and the next, immense gratitude that something shifted. That you took a next step and a next one and a next one. And then, you're okay with the next one...

Heart felt heart aches make the loneliest nights seem cold
To move through the pain seems a mountain I cannot unfold
Climbing it seems daunting, a task that is asked of me
I fear not the silence,
But the unfolding

Everything feels heavier
A movement churning inside my core
The weight of the sadness
A choir and a roar

Find stillness in this moment
Connect with who you are
Who you have been
Who you will be
When silence
Is not the everything

Ignoring shadows has never felt so real
The whisper of the elders
Floating so close to my ears
A yearning to sit by them
A yearning to be understood
A yearning, to be heard.

She can't take the silence,
Any more.

Images and thoughts dancing around her mind
She read something today,
Put the negative thoughts in a box, or imagine a wall up
She wondered if that helped

She wondered what the taste of depression was,
She decided it didn't have a taste. Tasteless. She felt like that was the saddest taste there was.

She couldn't yearn the feeling of flavor and texture combining to make something worth savoring but she felt like her body remembered, and it longed for its return.

She wondered how long she would be like this. The joy of taste being absent from her day, or recent memory. She hoped it wouldn't be long.

In a moment I thought again, "If he would just love me more, or, maybe he will love me more..." and then a silent voice rushed in quietly and whispered, "but you still have to love you, and maybe once you do, he will, but until you do, it doesn't matter if he does..."

And there was peace, only for a moment, until the tug of wanting it to be someone else's responsibility kicked in.

And then I loved my self, just a little bit, and kept walking

There is a difference in sitting in a room and wanting someone to ask you a question you can answer, so that maybe they would see the significance in your voice
And the Quiet Knowing, that you are valuable. Unique. Have a story. Are interesting, and insightful, and worthy.
Seeking worthiness seems feasible in feable terms how does one get quiet and be fulfilled, allowing the knowing to be enough?
You want to be enough.
Enough is relative and realistically speaking so many don't think anything is enough.
Silence.
How quiet can your Mind get
So your Soul can speak up
When life is lived Soulfully it is fulfilled in the knowing.
The quiet Knowing, that you are exactly where it feels good for your Soul to be...
To Be.
To just, be.
Quietly.
Sitting in a room full of strangers and someone asks you, what your name is
The response can feel like a pull to ask you another question you know you can answer
And a quiet response that says, it is this, but you dont feel like this, so even though the letters still fit together the same, when you tell them, it will tell them nothing..
To be heard, is to feel connected
All else is a meeting of egos that never really says much at all.
How can anyone know you at all
If you're scared, at all, of allowing the Quiet Knowing, to be absolutely, unapologetically, enough.
Too far, she always feels.
You've felt too far, too loudly, too many times, too late, too early.
She is me, and it is important to clarify that.
I yearn to remember that I am so much, enough.

- Blessings -