I don’t know if I will ever be healed,
but I know that I keep healing.
I don’t know if there is a final E-D,
but I know there is a continuous I-N-G
and
somehow,
that’s just as hopeful.
Category: Poems
Scathed Well
Don’t aim
to come out of life
unscathed.
Aim
to come out of it
scathed well:
Scathed, but using your scars
for the betterment of others
and yourself
Forgiveness VII
I put so much work
into forgiving you
now I need to put
that much
and more
into forgiving
myself
Bat-Shit Crazy
Looking back on our relationship,
sometimes I wonder
if you really hurt me
or if I was just bat-shit crazy.
My conclusion?
I was bat-shit crazy.
But that doesn’t mean
you didn’t hurt me.
__________________________________________________________
Note from the author: Just wanted to remind anyone who needs to hear it that there is no “perfect victim” of trauma. Even in light of your imperfections, your pain is valid. ❤
The Darkness
I think you view me
As the stars that light up a clear, summer night
But you’ve got it all wrong, babe
I am the darkness
(written summer 2018)
Indelible
There was a me
before I knew you
There will be a me
after you’re gone
Truer
When I prayed,
“Dear God,
help me see myself
as I truly am,”
I hoped to get a clearer picture
of things I often deny:
my mistakes,
my failures,
my cowardice,
my evils.
Instead,
I felt
a deep love.
I wonder
if this was God’s way
of telling me
that while my flaws
are true,
Love
is even
truer.
Fires
I vow
to spend my life
walking through fires
instead of
cowering from them.
I vow
to spread light
even when it means
I must
endure heat.
(written 2017 or 2018)
*Inspired by the Viktor Frankl quote, “what is to give light must endure burning.”
Whack-a-Mole
My creativity
is like a whack-a-mole:
when my demons scare it away,
it always pops up somewhere else,
somewhere unexpected.
When the hammer of judgment comes down,
it runs,
then reappears
somewhere I’m not looking.
It’s playful and cunning,
like the Looney Tunes roadrunner–
the coyote
will never catch it.
It’s opportunistic,
like a weed
that grows through the cracks
in the pavement.
It’s resilient,
like Fawkes the Phoenix–
every death
leads to a rebirth.
It must reinvent itself
a million times over,
but it never gives up,
and I’m so grateful
it doesn’t.
Powerful Silence
Sometimes,
I don’t want to write about my darkness–
as if acknowledging it
gives it power.
But this is a lie.
Throughout my life,
I have learned and re-learned
that nothing emboldens darkness
more than
silence.
Musings and Music 