Be respected.
Be valued.
Be considered.
Be included.
Be acknowledged.
Be important.
Be irreplaceable.
And in all this be loved.
Be.
Black and White Dresses
Most of my dresses
Of Black and white
Are Red all over,
From heart poured out.
The polkadotted one you picked specifically,
But your memory is of yellow.
A yellow dress
Of a girl way back
At the beginning;
The nostalgia of the moment we took off.
I tried to be her again,
But she’s gone;
Grown,
Into dresses fit for me now,
Dresses that feel my shape
That know my sway,
Monochrome or multishade.
I own them, in my way.
Black and white,
Read me now,
I’ve come so far,
Crashed, never burned,
360, watch me turn,
Watch me now,
Hold my own,
I spell me out
And what I deserve,
Clear as day,
In black and white.
Rejection Sensitivity
For fear of rejection,
I have held back,
Hidden,
And as a reflex run
From sharing my love,
For fear, it will be sneared at
Mocked,
Rejected.
Scared;
I have long kept quiet 3 sacred words.
And created a negative self-fulfiling prophecy.
In doing so I have held back this gift,
From those who I love most.
Leaving behind only regret,
As there are some to whom
I know only now know my truth,
Because they are alas as spirit.
Before that time
Should pass,
You,
Being of my most beloveds,
Please now know,
I love you so.
Deeply,
Truly,
Even madly,
Whatever form or relation be it to me,
I love you still,
Body, mind, and soul.
The Loop
Driving the loop,
Just to come back home.
Once my destination was a no go,
The scenery became the highlight.
Taking turns and noticing things I had not on previous trips here.
In awe of the view out my window,
There is so much out there
That I am kept from,
Trapped in here
In thought,
Immobile with fear, anxiety and sorrow,
Thoughts twisting and turning, on bends and hills, and slopes; looping,
Like the Acadia road,
But void of the scenery
I am working my way out,
Edging toward the door,
To be in the world,
To be free of the cycle of this loop.
A Living Heart
At wits end I balance;
Balancing,
I tight rope walk on feet that are raw,
hold in a pulsating primal scream of release,
That might offend other’s ears;
A caregiver,
I gather the weight,
The pain,
The scars
and the “I just cant”-s in a container of compassion, composed of empathy;
My beating heart feels the pressure
To do and hold it all;
And to yet remain softened,
While the beating muscle toughens from use,
And so
At times I fall
I melt,
Like the tears from my own eyes,
I collapse into that of which I am most made
Water,
And of this substance
I may release,
Relax,
Soothe, and soak
heal a living heart,
And from this recompose.
Sacred Spiral
The spiral is sacred,
A divine unfolding,
A turning that brings us close,
but never exactly returning to where we have been before,
No, this is always another space, another moment,
This is our journey through life,
Measured by what we know of as “time”,
We spiral, out into who it is we are,
Creating a path that curves
And curls
That tilts,
And teaches us balance
And all the other lessons on the way,
Moving on this spinning orb in the heavens,
That too spirals,
May we individually remain steady,
Flowing around, up and out,
On each our own sacred spiral.
She of Letters 