Dare to Dream


I dare close my eyes,
to be still and content,
despite the blackness,
threatening ascent,
almost instantaneously,
feeling rapid descent,
but it’s not black,
where was I sent?
it’s all so bold,
and lines are bent,
in technicolor,
with vivid accent,
non-linear and sharp,
the not-shapes torment,
rippling hues spinning,
a vortex of dissent,
hands and fingers paw at me,
a sea of malcontent,
a sensory kaleidoscope,
I’m overwhelmed, spent,
rapid breath in all blues,
but it’s stuck like cement,
I can’t feel my skin,
is this going to relent?
am I still sleeping?
where have I went?
if this is dreaming,
I don’t give my consent,
bring back the blackness,
this is not what I meant

-image via Pixabay

Invisible

am I invisible?

I suppose asking

that question is like

pissing in the wind,

when the answer

is likely to be twisted,

pointed back in my direction,

the wall of defense too thick,

when I’m left feeling peripheral,

in focus only when my voice is loud,

the squeaky wheel getting the grease,

a game of manipulation,

one I’m no longer

willing to play,

when my thinking of you

and hoping you’ll do the same

becomes inconsequential,

exteraneous,

irrelevant,

ash, blowing in the wind

-image via Pixabay, shared in response to Imaginary Gardens with Real Toad’s prompt, invisible

Longing

skin of sand
blown about
reaching hand
full of doubt
thinking errant
stay with me
peeling, transparent
want to flee
need your arms
invisibility cloak
safe from harm
the mirrors and smoke
your voice, I crave
my metronome
your pulse my nave
my haven, my home

Seeker

I’ve always had a thing for small spaces,
for hidden corners in coffee shops,
October breezes tucked beneath the
green cover of a willow tree,
for lone forest exploring,
and paddling with no destination in mind,
but staying close to the safety of the shore

for the longest time,
I had this feeling, this conviction,
that I’d been surrounded by earthen walls,
myopic vision only seeing that which was directly in front of me,
small-pictures with man-made frames,
seeing that which has meaning only to me

while feet away,
the autumn wind was blowing metamorphosis,
the tree tops slanted toward something unseeable,
swaying branches whispered existential,
and birds sang thanks to the sunrise
for things my soul longed to understand

mourning doves coo-cooed,
a murmuring of some essential secret
I did not yet know,
that I might never know,
because I didn’t know it was possible
to lift my head,
to venture outward and allow
my vision to broaden,
to peek out between the willow branches
and see beyond,
to venture far from the shore

oh, but if curiosity is allowed to
bubble freely to the surface,
and fear to diminish into the background,
if I dare to dive for treasure within,
I lift my head and apply it,
I see possibility,
I see meaning,
I feel the connectedness in all things,
find purpose in the spirited seeking
of truth

to seek truth is human –
humanness in a world
that discourages humanity
isn’t easy

but, I have a thing for being human

-shared as part of the Mindlovemisery Menagerie prompt, sunrise

She Can Imagine

She could still see him standing there in the doorway, paused. Struggling to keep quiet, the tears escaped, despite her best efforts to contain them. Biting her pillow, she muffled as much of the crying sound as possible. Oh god, more than anything she wanted him to turn around and come to her. To scoop her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay. She wanted to feel safe. She wanted to hear it and believe it.

Yet, there was also this part of her that didn’t even want him to acknowledge she was crying. Who didn’t want his sympathy. Who didn’t need his help. That same part of her who wanted him, but might never be able to admit how much she needed him. To breathe.

Hunched over the pillow cradled in her arms, she sat with her legs crossed, her back against the headboard, watching him through blurry eyes. Needing him, but that other part of her willing him to walk away. To save himself the ache.

“You are my life. My love. Why won’t you let me in?,” he asked as he turned to face her.

But he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know there’s nothing there. It’s a swirling mess of darkness and ugly. It’s cold in there. No one who has ever seen any part of it has wanted to stay. No one.

“I’m trying,” she said, desperately hoping he’d believe her.

As he stood there looking at her, she saw the pain in his eyes. Those eyes that told her he’s all in. Hell, his behavior over the past decade had proven he’s the most trustworthy person she’s ever known. Which makes it all the more risky to really let him in. There’s more to lose.

And she can imagine losing it.

-photo found on Pinterest, source unknown 

Stay

  

yes, I can hear you
but I can’t let you in
I’ve gotten so lost
in these webs that I spin

I open my mouth
but no sound comes out
I can’t find my voice
my throat is all drought

my heart is the opposite
it’s pumping too much
overflowing and clouding
everything that I touch

emotions so large
they threaten to break me
I want and I need
but I fear you will flee

so, don’t come too close
you’ll get stuck in here, too
I’ll pull and then push
until you’re black and you’re blue

…unless, by some chance
you really wish to stay…
the key is all yours
I have so much to say

Created in response to the Daily Post, Voice

Cyclical 


Clicking, turning 
‘Round and rounding 

Center burning
Mindless, drowning

Wreckage earning
Endless pounding

Thoughts a’churning
Screeching sounding 

Right side returning 
Yet upside downing

‘Round and ’round
And ’round and rounding 

*image credit 123rf.com free images via Google 

Some of Us

You don’t want to see the things
That rest behind your eyes
You don’t want to feel their weight
So, keep telling yourself more lies

You don’t want to feel their wrath
But while you try to hide
We all suffer watching you
Act out of ego and of pride

You don’t want to know yourself
Dig deeper and pull through 
To fight to hear your spirit speak
But some of us do

-oil painting by my oldest daughter, age 15