I Remember.

I remember times when just getting up out of bed
was foremost on my mind
and the biggest struggle of my day.
I remember times curled up with undiagnosed pain,
when I wanted to die,
when I hated myself for being this way.

I remember times when I could get up,
could get out of the house;
yet my head would spin,
and focus and comprehension were distant lands,
long journeys away.

I remember not crying through most of this,
because that felt like weakness when I needed to be strong.

I remember needing someone close to me,
needing someone to sit with me and be present.
Not to fix, not to suggest I am broken,
just to keep the loneliness at bay and
to bring positive energy into my day.

And I remember rarely receiving that.
I remember not having those people around me
and not knowing how to ask for it.

I remember alone, pain, hatred, depression,
and all the physical manifestations of a life in turmoil.

I remember Stars in the night. ✩
I remember pouring my heart into words,
flinging those words into the dark sky and
watching them match up with the results of others’ efforts.

I remember seeing out there;
words – with emotions,
that became faces, that
reached out to me, that
helped make sense out of it all.

I remember their souls
their energy, compassion, and love
some now faded, some drifted away,
some still flickering – as my light did for so long.

And I am blessed
to have lived through this all
to have been present through it all
and felt every fucking feeling that life has to offer.

Now…
I see this knowledge and understanding,
an integral part of me,
a gift I am able to share with others
As my light shines bright, once more,
for myself, and for those I connect with.

This life exists most wholly
with those whose paths cross mine
For minutes, or days, or months.
And in those moments I am brightest
in those moments I shine and
share the warmth that glows in my heart.

Instagram Poets.

Photo scrolls up
A familiar style
Already I know it’s you
Hesitating to read
Knowing
Your words draw me in
Completely
Carrying away to a new place
Every time
Every moment
Not ready for this adventure
Turning off and tuning out
Your precious gift awaits
We will meet soon
When my time is right

.

[ I’ve been spending more time on instagram lately, sharing my shorter poetry with integrated visuals. It feels closer to what I’m striving for artistically. Feel free to join me there. And if you also put writing there, do let me know. I live for all your words. ]

How does it Feel?

It feels like the start of a new journey while tangled in the old one
It feels like mountain climbing and gliding down the other side in a bicycle
It feels like finding new friends and suddenly losing them again
It feels like every mistake I’ve ever made arriving at once
It feels like emotional exhaustion and fresh energy
It feels like new music and sad songs
It feels like missing meals and discovering a picnic in the garden
It feels like a new book and worn pages with turned corners
It feels like stormy winds and sunshine on my face
It feels like crying and receiving comfort from your best friend
It feels like anticipation and collapsing on the floor
It feels like fresh sheets and staying too long in bed
It feels like soft pillows and a comfy sofa
It feels like nerves before a great performance
It feels like a skin pamper and removing a splinter
It feels like brick walls and open doorways
It feels like colourful paintings and dusty old masters
It feels like lavishing attention on the cat and not being clawed
It feels like light at the end of the tunnel and minding your steps over the rocks and tracks
It feels like a triumphant fanfare over a steady drumbeat
It feels like your suggestion from last week suddenly sitting perfectly within my plans
It feels like decorating the Christmas tree and not minding the worn faded tinsel
It feels like looking at your own reflection and wanting to see where today might go
It feels like the texture of touching this sculpture and knowing it can never be moved
It feels like finally caring for yourself, no matter what happens.

Answers Come Slowly.

Answers come slowly, one at
A time
As I step forwards through
The struggle
Motivation and enthusiasm for work is
Missing because
My inner critic says that I am a failure at
These activities
While I’ve been told this is
Not so
While I’ve been explained
The reasons
Rational thought is no support at
This time
Relying on the invisible, on
Trust only
I must.