the walk through the dark forest,
with these trembling legs full of fear.
the fear of hissing coming from a height,
And the rumors of a living giant bear.
the crying trees suffering from blight.
hands start shaking, whenever I try to write.
the experience was honest and real,
that roar if lion I still can hear.

I seem to lean
into my shadows, failures and faults.
That ***** too natural
and my downward leaning too easy.

What darkness have I learned?
What sullen seed has
merged into the deeper passages
to transform
into thorns?

Is it my repeated stumblings
or the sin of another
inflicted early
but now forgotten?
Maybe it’s so terrible
my mind has stashed it way way down
now a fungus still alive in the dark?

I feel too at home
dwelling in that cave
and I am in need,
I am sorely in need
of light,
enough lasting exposure
to **** the blight
scorch the itch
and set me leaning
into an upward pitch
to thwart the dark

proclivities.

i should be listening to music,
while writing love poems.
but i’m busy,
and all i can manage is a short little note,
about something else.

my mind feels like clean paper today,
fresh and beautiful.
it’s been filled with the brightest colors
-someone telling me i’m beautiful,
loved.
someone loving my words,
someone whispering promises of heaven in a song.

it’s been filled with bright-eyed questions,
running,
but always feeling oh so very right.
i feel oh so very right.

i ignore this small twinge in my gut,
my life is going so well,
that i do not doubt.
but i ignore that small twinge in gut,
when someone said i could be cured.

their face appears everywhere,
and their face is my mother’s inspiration.
does she think i can be cured?

i am the perfect daughter.
i study, i volunteer.
i am happy, i am kind.
i am in clubs. i am good with my friends,
reasonable and responsible.
but there’s a blight she doesn’t know -a blight that is not a disease.
but when your inspiration tells you so, would you dismiss it as an interesting view?
would you believe it if you knew my blight? or would you forget?

i, i can only describe my blight as bright.
i have been told i light, like every color in the world.
for once, i feel right.
i may not fit in, but i know the lines on which i walk.
or i know how to walk.

because you told me, to hear someone who said i was bright.
because you have always supported what i am.