It’s not my place.
It’s not my place to tell you you’re ignorant.
It’s not my place to tell you you’re disrespectful.
It’s not my place to tell you you’re unhealthy.
It’s not my place to tell you you’re wrong.
It’s not my place to educate you.
All of those perceptions and behaviors are your path, your truth.
It is ONLY my place to BE the compassionate, the respectful, the healthy, the charitable, the intelligent, the confident.
My only purpose is to be my values
and love whoever follows
and whoever doesn’t
Kaleidoscope of energy shifts
amidst these broken bones.
Cracks let colors through in loud verses, pursing lips and urging curses to be lifted. Steady tremors act as tenors
start to bellow in this hollow chest
a mellow cushion for their
consistent shaking, breaking lines in bars
as the melody keeps playing,
off tempo and forsaken,
overlooked for what it’s worth
this curse of trembling trebles and
bounding bass. Facing fear in its space
with a forte of grace and resounding dignity flowing into me looking innocently
the eyes of nature’s demise on my life and standing tall.
Never falling when colors turn and
shift their hue, turning black and blue
I lie upon a table, open to the world.
Fingers slowly straighten,
losing anxious gripping curves.
Gentle hands behind my head,
I’ve been told this may be rough,
but something deep inside this soul
has had about enough.
Let me fall into
the darkest places webbed and trapped.
When I come out bathed in tears
I’ll have a better guided map.
He presses on my head,
and I breathe and count to three.
The rest of my experience
is no longer up to me.
He says: find a happy place,
notice all the smells.
The noises and the feeling
of a comfort I know well.
I fall onto the floor
of my late Grandmother’s home,
the place I never wondered
if I’d ever feel alone.
His pressure becomes greater,
and the darkness takes its shape.
The bed she lay upon,
her last breaths while not awake.
I am there beside her now,
but lie in trance from brain control.
The sadness becomes worse
and emotion takes its toll.
A snap of gentle fingers
and I’m suddenly awake.
Face is drenched in tears
and I’m far from feeling safe.
The doctor looks at me
and asks me softly how I feel.
I say I don’t know why,
but I fear what he’s revealed.
I ascend up from the table,
dry my face and soaking ears,
I know I will stay stuck
if I keep in all these fears.
Bearing through the pain
of reliving blocked off issues,
I tell him next appointment,
I’ll bring my own tissues.
*A true story about emotional healing and Cranio Sacral therapy
I try to find the words,
yet they escape me every time.
Fixated on the tempo,
always mindful of the rhyme.
The meaning gets distorted,
like I’m speaking different tongues.
Understanding eludes speech,
wasting breath from broken lungs.
Conveying ruthless pain
comes out rather unconvincing.
Confused at my attempt,
you scoff at me simply existing.
Minute to second living
is the first choice that I have.
Other ways of coping
seem so wasted and so sad
Spoken was this truth:
The hardest fight is with myself.
Your understanding will not save me,
so put my book back on the shelf
Exhausted beyond measure
yet the days are keeping time
Idled in the pleasure
of a soft unspoken rhyme
Dripping through the letters
seeps a meaning I call mine
Uninterested in whether
words can easily combine
Twitch and the itch is stitched through my nerves the curves of endless verve intwined my mind laced signs of insane a brain tainted and lame from the same elixirs to fix her tiny powder tricksters losing sisters testing brothers working father worried mother and the other friends and foes they don’t know how low my heart’s gone wall up armor on whisper songs to tin plates hide my face stay in place until the wolves go away
Fear is my fuel;
love is my fear