when was it that hearing the wind began to frighten me?
as a child, i relished it’s strength, loved listening to where it had been

now it speaks to me in different languages
in its unstoppable force, i hear my mortality,
in its battering of the roof top and shaking of the windows, i hear my fears

perhaps i need to go out, to leave my pretend shelter of wood and glass
and meet it in its environment,
and introduce myself to it again...

vulnerabilty....

a scary place to be
for most of us..
we teach ourselves
to be impenetrable
we pride ourselves
on self-sufficiency,
to not need others

and in doing so,
we deny our spirits...

sometimes it's the saying of things
aloud
that makes them true...
that's why we hold back
giving voice to what we know....
because
what we make true
creates who we are

and

sometimes the saying of things
aloud
frees us from self-constructed prisons....
because
giving voice to our experience
allows
us to let it go....
and we then
(re) create who we are

you help me
to make the small forays
out of myself

by lending me
your sight
of this world

by being
who you are

by just being....

my narcotic

was
to go numb...
don't feel
it's too intense
afraid i'd get lost in my mind
never to touch
reality again

the problem with choosing to feel nothing
over feeling the darkness
is that
i'd trained myself,
quite adroitly,
to also question
joy,
and love

i'd chosen perception
over reality,
control
over risking

i'm risking now,
but only a little,
baby steps

i want
to be who
i am
on the inside

i want
to shout out
to the world
what's inside my head
what's inside my heart

i want
to let go
to live it fully
to not be afraid

i want...
like i said,
baby steps...

family

what is it that binds us?
shared memories?
but versions
of our histories
invariably differ.

common references then
to a past recollected....

seeing each other
through a veil
of previous experience

what would we
think of one another
without
the recollections
of what went before?

it’s not the blood that connects us
it’s the choice
to remain,
to be,
family

“you should float between the borders” she says

oh, but i do, I think
i exist between the borders
have dwelt there, and here,
for a lifetime, or two, it seems...

between the borders that define sexuality,
between the borders that define culture, dual identity,
between this living in, and out, of my mind
between the borders of your skin and mine,

boundaries defined and blurred

celebration and denial of self

knowing and not

patience and haste

between, between, between

between here and there
nowhere it seems, at times...

in my vulnerability
in the fragile state
where i feel like
anything
and everything
that touches me
sears my flesh
and blisters my soul,
this is where i find my strength

“Some days bring you more than 24 hours ahead in your life. It’s like your back tires are stuck in the mud, spinning around and around, until suddenly you hit a rock and you take off. Life is like that. It spins over and over in the same place for days, weeks, months, then something happens and you’re blasted light years away from the hole you had dug for yourself.”

Author - Sylvia Olsen

That’s what I’ve been doing these last years, spinning in the mud, waiting for the rock.....

it is one’s capacity to forgive others
it is having compassion
it is behaving with dignity
it is maintaining hope when one’s world is crumbling
it is the power to rebuild one’s life after the night has passed
it is the ability to laugh at one’s self
it is the ability to learn from mistakes
it is the capacity to love again and again.....

numbness serves
when emotions threaten to overwhelm
to drown me
in their shear intensity
until i have no breath
with which to cry out

breaking through
from mind
through flesh
to ink
onto a page

the words i use
hard words
silly words
foolish words
painful words
strong words
my words

they reflect
create
re-create

like a child
learning to walk
i begin again from this moment
and will begin
again...
and again...

and i will use my words
to record
to process
to honour
as they
break through
again...
and again...

i stare into the grey
wanting to fall in
envelope myself
in the nothingness

but not too far do i lean
i’m afraid to fall
and find her there
the she who is me.
and she will enter into me
or i into her
until one of us finds.
wholeness
and the other (dis)appears

i stay back
only staring in
wanting...
waiting...