Life, Poetry, Relationships, Uncategorized

Air

two years later, still relevant

Musings of a meandering mind...

Come
Fall into me as I
wrap myself around you
rest in the softness
of my embrace

I am wide, tall
the expanse
beyond the stars

Close your eyes
lay yourself on me
feel my heartbeat curl
around the shape
of your body

I am vast
chasms of eternity
etched in my depths

I know your travail
your whispers
your tears
fall on me

I have absorbed them

Let me cherish
as you love
nurture
as you live.

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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, Poetry, Trauma, Uncategorized

Buried

when I was

sacrificed for their pleasure

abandoned, tossed aside

I didn’t know if I mattered

They spoke my name softly

or spit it disdainfully

did I look up when they spoke

challenge them with my eyes

clenched fists

locked knees

I stayed safely silent and felt it

in the tissues of my soul

It’s still buried there

their voices are still

talking and sometimes I can’t escape

and I become like them selfish and uncaring

and it takes every ounce of strength to pull away

to see me

to see my value

to set my feet in the earth

and know I am not buried

to know

I am alive  …  they aren’t 

 

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(photo – wilowispaperio, 2015)

 

 

 

 

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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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