#notokay, All Blogs, Hearing Voices, Photography, Relationships, Trauma

#notokay

This is why I write what I write most times.

When does it ever stop?

Will it ever stop?

Most days I’m fine then something like this happens and it stirs up all the memories, all the shit, all the pain.

The most powerful words ever spoken to me: “He can’t hurt you anymore.”.

No maybe not physically, yet carrying years of memories in my skin can’t be of any help either. Because he wasn’t the only one. There were so many.

Sneaky gropes, words, innuendos and the actual physical assaults over the years as a child and an adult.

I ran away from home at fifteen to get away and found myself experiencing even more assaults because I didn’t know how to protect myself except to step away inside, go to a space where no one could get to.

Floodgates have opened here because of #notokay

Now I need to decide whether to shut them down, dam it up or let it loose and wash over me.

 

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(photo credit Wilowispaperio, 2016)

 

 

 

 

 

 

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All Blogs, Life, Photography, Poetry, Uncategorized

today

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(photo credit wilowispaperio, 2016)

today I shall not make my bed
I will go out with my camera,
not my phone
my keyboard will not hug today

today I will spend time with friends
listening to jazz
laughing and drinking coffee
and eat a big fat buttery croissant

today I shall stand at the front of the ferry
and watch as we cut through the water
to my most favorite place in the world
I will put my feet in the lake and
feel my senses open to its iciness
I will climb rocks and cut through
the marshes and lay on the beach in the sun

today I shall lay on the ground
and take pictures of tiny microscopic
creatures in the ice and sand
stalk birds while listening to them sing
take deep breaths and close my eyes
and listen to the earth’s pulse

then I will slowly make my way
back to my unmade bed
disheveled sheets and pillow
lay myself down and say
today I did not make my bed

 

 

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Hearing Voices, Photography, Poetry

Wormwood

bitter orifice
etched in muted face

hurling judgment
angry blows
words slamming

a small babe
destroying her essence

“no good dirty bitch
blighted speck of excrement”

I now see the wormwood
it was rotting your veins
oozing through your pores
blackening your deceptive smile

shhhh

soft voices draped over
my cowering body
took me
away from your craziness
your insanity

kept me safe

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(photo ~ wilowispaperio, 2015)

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Photography, Poetry

velvet and lace

her stance awkward
elbows close to her hips
feet planted firmly
her face speaks loudest

at 16 defiant
untrusting
already weary

at 56
still not trusting
still weary

it’s alright
in the shadows
where she has
draped flowery vines
over her body
and rests on the
south side of the tree
and likes the
moss beneath her
the leaves tickling
her bare skin

there’s no one watching
no one to judge
no harsh words
no pain
except her own

her voices whisper
“you are diamonds
and cool to the touch”

she whispers
“I want to be velvet
and lace”

(Photo credit Wilowispaperio, 2014)

diamonds and lace

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Photography, Poetry

Knowing…

Her shadows

she holds space for them
too much energy
pulling in the light

it’s easier to

    step out

thenbackin

“a sanctuary”, she says
“it’s intimate there
they know me well”

I’ve tried enticing
with smells
beautiful paintings
sweet music
promises

She shakes her head
there’s a knowing within her
“It’s not safe”, she says

I’d rather stay
in the light
but want to be near her…

(photo – wilowispaperio, 2014)
shadows

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