Falling into a Moment.

Today, is just as times before. When I feel the pain of another’s story, long after my ears have heard. When I remember back to my own journeys through the pain of chronic ill-health. And the mental anguish of being unable to function for days, weeks, months. The self-imposed stresses. The very real stress of maintaining a relationship whilst unable to maintain yourself. Being unable to work, unable to generate income, unable to meet deadlines.
Unable. Disable. Needing more enable, but those days were rare.
I have known defeat, suffering, struggle, and loss. Somehow I have found my way out of those depths and stand here today.

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Pain reaches forwards
Up from the past
Clutching and dragging me
Back
Fearing all that
Now, as then

And I tell myself right now
These are emotional ghosts
They have no power over me
Except that which I give them.
Though I feel unsteady, unsafe
My comfort lies in others
Asking for help
Accepting supportive hands
Belief in my own inner strength.
These are my tools
With these now I survive
And prepare to thrive once more
This is my hope, my truth.

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Gaps in my Heart.

The gaps in my heart
That cry out to be filled
That I jam up with searching
And questioning myself
For criticism silences the inner voice

I fear stopping and listening
I fear the tears that may flow
And then never stop
Mostly I fear being unable to help
Feeling paralysed by pain

[ these words flowed after reading this post by Vonita. ]

Freedom from Capture.

© Mary Jo Boughton 2015
“23” © Mary Jo Boughton, 2015. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

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Wanting to help others
Is in your nature
So wanting to help yourself
Comes naturally too.
Beware the critic
The diviner of right and wrong,
Embrace the loving supporter
The kind and compassionate persister.
You deserve to be happy
Though that strange place
Brings fears of losing your self
Trust me, trust you,
That place is better, ’tis true
You will grow there
Flourish
Feeling life’s meaning
And you will feel safe
As the security comes from within.

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[ this is my response to Ruby Browne’s words on struggle ]

Impunity.

Bedroom cage
meant to be green
Piano lessons
discarding the sweet
life is sour
Collecting on my body
interpreting fabric marks
picking, teasing, unravelling
Emotional interface
led astray, by self neglect.
Searching out
a green scarecrow
of mine own
Caging the wind of life
recalls the colour of restraint
and the temperature of release
Set free,
the Winter froze in place
all I needed.
Just one note
is all that I am
Others ran away
following me
A time to gather together,
presenting the always me.

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[ my response to the Owl’s return. ]

The Architecture of Sleep.

You hesitate
As I watch, your movements give you away
You don’t like leaving, consciousness
You don’t like, releasing control
But this is our space, built for this purpose
And as movement stills, as breathing slows
I watch over you, over the bed-clothes, over the pillows
Every night is different, I don’t always get this right
But I hold down the sheets,
from blowing away in the gales of your dreams
Retain the pillow just under your turning head
And hold away the sunrise for as long as I can
I work all night, I keep your sleep
And take my own rest during the day

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[ this is my response to this poem by Nina, go check out her words as well ]

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20150729-215635.jpg“Sleeperie”

Mis-timed Heart-beat.

Reminders of what had been
of complete fulfilment
now passed
now only haunting echoes

Her weakness was to love
fully and truly
to engage her whole self
in the moment of dreams

But reality is not the dream world
the cruelty of timing, of location
forever scratches its nails
across the blackboard of her memory

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[ my response to eledette’s latest poetry, Besieged ]

The Response.

I am not broken
Nor faulty
I am alive
Surviving
Even thriving
Because I am here
Today
Been through so much
And I am here
in this moment
aware of myself
all that was
and all that is

I will step forwards
Through this
Because I know
it doesn’t end here
My life goes on
to bigger and better
That’s just how
it’s always been
This day is
just like others
that I made it through
that I grew through
I am life

(14 April 2015)

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[ written in response to yesterday’s post First Awareness. ]

Trying To Make Sense.

20150404-005553.jpg

Some things make no sense
Some things don’t kill you
Some things don’t make you stronger
Some things break you in ways that may never heal
Do you really believe this, is it what you feel?
I want to believe that there is always recovery
That there is always redemption
That there are still undiscovered ways to be free(d)
That there is hope for me and especially for you
That there is some future worth all the pain
An existence with meaning and purpose
Somewhere loved to retreat to
And somewhere loved to spring forth from

(4 April 2015)

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Wrote this poem tonight after reading the words by J. Raymond
What part of life do you struggle to make sense of?
What do you hope for?