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Journey of Days Aug 2017
tears have colour

fresh tears created in battles
they gnaw away at the wounds
dashing away in torrents
draining and savage
mixing with the red rain
the acid of injury
the trail is ****** and raw
rubble left drenched
then soaked to the core
the phase of red tears.

here begins
the agony of the heart
purple tears
are razors
they slice
cutting away
at a mind left in tatters
shredding itself within loops
purple tears leak randomly
chasing the what ifs
around and around and around
on tilted merry-go-rounds
spraying centrifugal patterns
onto canvases previously untouched
the phase of purple tears

tears of black herald possession
symptoms of poison
the rot of insult
moral injury tracking through veins
distorting sight
and clouding the remnant mind
black tears ooze
sticky with regret and anger
they recreate battles
some that never happened
they fuel the movies of revenge
give off a cold smoke
that distorts time
they can shine brightly
creating the illusion
of strength and restoration
black tears are the trap
offering paths down perpetual loops
the phase of black tears

these tears are tricky
they look normal
but carry the code of injury
blue tears are loaded with emotion
they course away in silent sobs
leaving the DNA of injury
residue on everything they touch
unwanted and unwarranted
they track along the scars left behind
those barely healed from the red phase
blue tears are often habit forming pastimes
shoehorning themselves into the spaces where
the light has begun to shine through
chasing away the recovered moments of normal
they crave medication
and feed on isolation
they are needy fellows
and linger haplessly
the phase of blue tears

marks a turn in the path
green tears are productive
rewards for growth
indicating better days
more steps forward than back
sometimes they smell sweet
and are infused with joy
and in an odd combination with happiness
tactile responses to finding a way back
not to where you came from
but to where you are mean to be
green tears have no shadows
the come from a different origins
they heal pain while documenting memories
new skill learnt
converting dark to light through green
not easily replicated
a new born foal on wobbly legs
they take time to master
forgiveness is possible with them engaged
the phase of green tears

so explains the colours in the *evolution of tears

“evolution of tears #5”  is the fifth part in the series of poetry and paintings
Journey of Days Jul 2017
born of blast furnace heat
swirling and shimmering
skies rained blood

earth sodden
enriched with grief
it seeps to transition

passage via roots
of long dead trees
leaching through depths

shredding and stripping
the substance of life
constituents left behind

now neophytes release
into the next phase
in the evolution of tears

“ *evolution of tears #3* ”  is the third part in the series of poetry and paintings
Journey of Days Apr 2017
what happened  
no longer matters
I am not finished

Journey of Days Apr 2017
during the rains
cascades thundered
even without obvious clouds
distant weather systems
fed the tributaries of anger and insult
capacity endlessly breached

substrate delicately formed over time by layered injury
the dam holds firm
for the most part
every so often, words seep through
coursing gently down the lee side

a welling up occurs less often now
barely cresting
only when the pain returns
memories then tumble over
free falling in a riot of muted grey

so explains
an evolution of tears

“evolution of tears #2” is the second part in a series.
“evolution of tears #1" is a painting and can be viewed here -
Journey of Days Apr 2017
death doesn’t scare me anymore
there are worse things

empty has no hope
deserts are formation
breath is shallow
cold is paralysing, heat without relief
utter exhaustion

death doesn’t scare me anymore
there are worse things

empty has no hope
eddies progress in formations across the ground
scratching around in the earth
rivulets of dust fan out across the surface
grinding and polishing the soul

death doesn’t scare me anymore
there are worse things

empty has no hope
profound nothing
only pain makes this real
but it is fleeting and empty seeps back in
there is no self-worth

death doesn’t scare me anymore
there are worse things

this lesson has been hard
it has been lonely
the empty has been necessary
there is no point lower
now the ground is stable

death doesn’t scare me anymore
there are worse things

empty has no hope
tumbling through a wash cycle of dust
and nothing
I have already died
been to my own funeral
mourned my passing, grieved for months
walked through a valley of half-life in shadow
and have come out the other-side

deserts are lessons
and I am not scared anymore


PTSD PTSInjury   #growth #lifelesson #PTSgrowth  #death #life
Journey of Days Apr 2017
window to your mind
this art that you make
journey across ordinary life
and scarred and ancient landscapes.

warrior falls
righteous rage cut short
his cause now falters
Evil dances on his demise
blighting the memory, continuing falsehoods
a chattering class of worms

truth exposed
this art that you make
document this extraordinary life
of battles fought and Evil vanquished

"sometimes the truth of what happened and happens cannot be told in words.

trauma keeps some trapped in a place and time that they cannot explain.

they use another language to tell their story even if it is just to themselves, as they try to make sense of what they are dealing with"
Journey of Days Mar 2017
facing the day
with joy in my heart
knowing I can
not falling apart

walking in strength
feeling alive
living the truth
fearless...not quite

Journey of Days Mar 2017
I. antemortem
from this place, further along this journey of days
antemortem, would I …
take the path
say nothing
submit to the pain
still believe it was worth it
avoid cataclysm
fight harder
not fight at all
believe in a higher cause
endure the torture
deny my nature
avoid the execution
accept the cup
walk into that storm again

II. postmortem
from this place, further along this journey of days
postmortem, could I
walk in that desert
get totally lost
live without hope
not haunt myself
see the outcome
park my brain
know that it will end
suffer with gratitude
forgive myself
accept the loss
forgive them
not want death
skip this part
willingly submit to it again

III. antenatal
from this place, further along this journey of days
antenatal, I understand
impacts of trauma
being empty
processes of grief
some wounds heal
… others do not
manifestations of evil
fighting to live
seeking control
...and never getting it
human frailty
frailty of mind
reconstructing a mind
listening to quiet
struggling for reason
struggling for purpose
seeking pain
going backwards
pulling together the threads
submitting to time

IV. postnatal*
ut consilium*

a process of working through PTSD

IV stages of life and death, healing and growth: antemortem, postmortem, antenatal, postnatal

remembering and finding reason and purpose

Where am I now?  ut consilium
Journey of Days Mar 2017
so you think you know me?
there are parts of me that even after all this time, i keep
not forgotten over this journey of days
tucked away, sometimes woven into the fabric of emotion and choices
never more important than now
in this struggle to get back
to find me, the whole of me

put it behind me? that’s your advice?
it is still my reality, it isn’t going anywhere

you really want to know me?
are you ready to see it all?
do you think you can deal
as the parts become unhinged and fall off
as i show you the parts of me you have never seen
the raw, the angry, the parts that make no sense
are you ready for that?

put it behind me? that’s your advice?
it is still my reality, it isn’t going anywhere

do you really want use the lens that filters the way i see the world now?
i think you should
then you will never say
put it behind you
you will honour this reality
holding my hand, holding the pen

know me


— The End —