I have faced a fair amount of trials in the last 10-20 years. 

And for a fair amount of that time I avoided myself. I shied away from who I knew I was and who I wanted to be. I let society and culture decide for me, and I drowned in it. For such a long time. 

This year has been some of the hardest trials I've ever faced, but also some of the most beautiful and rewarding, because of what they've made me face, and how I've turned back toward what I lost so long ago. 

This is the first poem I've shared publicly in almost six years. It's different than anything I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it. 

Forward is the only option

Trying to escape herself in this

sea of doubt

Ruling her mind in every

attempt to shout out

Is she as crazy as they say?

Does she need a moment away?

Or is she simply a woman swayed

By a culture that's lead her astray?

How young was she when they taped her mouth shut

with words and scorns for having born

her own name

In this shame

She weeps, but not to be held

to be heard

A word

It's all she desires to get out

But it never comes out

How it's supposed to

Because she's lost touch

With how to feel less used

They fall all around her - lying

crying

Dying to put her feet on the ground

Grasping

Collapsing

Fleeing defeat

But she knows she's meant for more

Than this

And it's only a matter of time

Before this rhythm turns to a rhyme

Before she dives overboard

And soars through the water

To find

Herself

Right where she left it

When they dragged her away

Those many years ago..

Denial's absence, and moving toward truth

There are a lot of things I've learned about myself from social media, and a lot about others as well. Facebook and other such sources have a way of removing one's inhibitions, and moving straight to the meat of the thing.

The problem with that? It was nice when we were all face to face, and only a few of us were the "blunt ones." Life was easier to handle that way. One serious thought at a time, one overwhelming thought slap at a time.

But now? We all have a soapbox. We all think we have a chance to be heard, and fearlessness has become a sort of disease that gives us a false hope.

I miss the shyness and the fear of looking someone in the eye to tell them how you really feel. I miss the shuffle and the smell and the intrigue of seeing someone's thoughts as they speak.

Ever since I had my daughter last year, I have been searching for myself, and I am quickly realizing that my "internet identity" is lonely, lost and confused.

I have recently come to the realization that I have been battling postpartum depression ever since my daughter was born, 15 months ago. Who knew it could last that long? I hadn't a clue until recently. I just knew I was feeling unsure, and that life had lost its beautiful luster and infinite possibilities that it used to dazzle me with,

And then there's the problem of friendships. Over the past few years, I have delved myself into my career, my marriage, and motherhood, and while these are all good things, it has been to the detriment of many friendships that I hold very dear to my heart.

It's easy to think that you can do everything before you're presented with it, but when push comes to shove, ultimately your family and your bacon are, and should, always be the winners in the race.

It took me a while to realize this. Before my daughter was born, most of the damage had already been done, and I was newly married, and working my first hardcore "career" job that I had ever had - so my ability to attend everything fell to the wayside.

So my 30th birthday passed as just another day, baby shower invitations went unanswered, and messages to old friends became invisible,

This haunted me for quite some time, and I do believe that it is part of what may contribute to the hopelessness that comes with postpartum depression in the first place; when suddenly, your world has become much smaller, everyone is disappointed in your inability to make dinner, while attending a party, breastfeeding your child, and standing on your head simultaneously..

It's a tough world out there. And ultimately, I finally realize that it's ok. I am everything in my family's eyes, and I am amazing at my job, and while my handful of friends is few, it is the quality and the loyalty that really counts.

Hang in there, guys. We're all having a hard time most days. But we're in this together, whether we realize it or not.

Sometimes life stops for a minute..

Open Gates


A bolstering gun of light
      factors through a canyon of -

      I don't know
            - ignorance
            - indifference

Distantly tracing a line
      on a cold, hard wall
            with a painted picture
                  of something warm - and beautiful

This etching
      these..
            pretend lines
      somehow they bleed

      somehow - they rape
            the lies from the eye

But the iris
      it strains
            having forgotten color
                  like an open gate unrecognized

Holding freedom with its
      camouflage background
            of familiarity

The white wolf waits
      quietly beyond the invisible walls
            staring with its
                  ice blue eyes

      Piercing through deceit
            hoping
                  patiently

Words have no use here

and the moon isn't bright enough
      to break the skin

and the gate will never swing open
      without an eye to see it

A poem.

Slumber that Bleeds like rain

flowing through veins
      with pressure and pain
           
falling like rain
      crashing on hot pavement

like gravel writhing
      driving through unknown chasms

lies protect larger organs
      from bursting, or imploding

walls that never die
      souls that refuse to be free

the salt stains warming
      flying into a long awaited slumber

resting in each moment
      meditating upon what else to ponder

fleeing

flaking

run..

Peace has never been so good.

Restful Longing


The watery moon-lit
      glaze flows below
            my brain with such
                   strength - such certainty


As the midnight tree creatures
      dance upon my ears
            with music
                  as fruit might to a tongue


Save me - calm earth,
      from the blustering boom
            of tomorrow


Let me rest for now
      hush these thoughts
            as water vapor fills
                  my lungs with a cool
                        silence


      beautiful breath..


This canyon of wounds
      invites healing
            this graceful plea of
                  filtered sorrow


It was never about the rain
      - each droplet, so small
            but the peaceful accumulation
                  flowing into the pond of
                        wisdom


The place where the dirt
      proudly lies, settled
             at the bottom - smiling upward
                   through the pure cleansing
                         waters of time and knowing


Each word - a droplet
      each thought - a puddle
            all joining together
                  in the resting place
                        where I long to be.

Pursing in Surrender

Opening up


Like a pursed flower


      rising
Reaching into this


      surrendering
Each petal


      bleeding
Ricocheting downward


      condensing
Fleeing inside the pulse


      breathing
Working through each elaborate chasm


      beating
Opening toward perfect warmth


      releasing
Bathing in shameless pools


      dripping
Curling in fern-like delight


      baring
Stretching for chapelled ceilings


      absorbing
Blossoming every inch


      wilting
Falling toward floor-lit caves


      readying
Dancing in harmonic rhythm


      slowing
Spreading throughout the end


      resting


            finding


                  progressing

The "Age" of Reason

The Way the Soul Cries when the Clock starts


From a larger pulse
      a whole that
            r e t r acts
      with every thought
            and desire
      etched into human form
           breathing now
                 panting - eating
            feeling - crying
                  laughing


                  processing


Life


Not just a piece anymore
      or a glowing burst of
            energy and infinity
Temporarily broken away
      placed in material
            experience


The earth weeps
      with welcoming
            flattery
A clock begins
      tick             ing
            logic
                  Reason   ?


Suddenly, this beautiful
      infinite soul
            feels the pressure
      of being stamped
            with age
                   separation
                        confusion
                               reaction  ?


Dying to
      connect
            to a larger whole
the one from whence
      it came
            the wisdom 
                  that had already consumed it


To hide the crows,
      and the creases,
            and the moles,
                  and the whites
                        and grays 
      or show them  ?


Fighting, leaping,
      begging
            for the beginning
Running from the unforgiving
      labeling
            of the ticking
                  clock


Do not judge this
      soul
by its
      journey 
             l e  n   g    t     h      .       .        .


For there have been
      many
and there will be
      infinitely more


Tear the skin away
      break the eyes - 
            the hair
See the thing inside
      the part that came
            from the larger
                  p u l s e
      the part
             that has always been
                   the same origin
             as yours