Trying to focus on what is truly important.
It is not my physical state, what good does watching myself wriggle do?
It is the me inside who speaks to God all day,
in my secret place where the world can’t hurt us.
This is where my healing lies.
Safety, being loved and held in an embrace.
Gazing into long past eyes, there is a knowing now.
I avoid the memories until things get really bad.
How bad are Things?
What do you mean by Bad?
Sinful? Hateful? Painful? Remorseful?
Things Are Looking Up- I had the cutest poster once, with that very caption, and it was a line of little monsters with their eyes all gazing skyward…
Held in an embrace. A friend embraced me tonight in a huge, empathetic bear hug , and I thought my heart would burst and the only thing left would be a shower of tears, tinkling to the floor like shards of broken glass.
I feel like I just can’t breath. like the lack of love is strangling me, like if I would run gasping and screaming out of the house into the cold night air, no sound would come out…
maybe a strangling sound
maybe I’d flop around on the driveway like a flounder that comes flying into the boat with a mean, steel hook angrily lodged in her gill.
she looks up with both her eyes on top of her flat, glistening, beautiful fish body, begging ” set me free”. She’s such good eatin’ that I’ll let those lovely eyes glaze over. She is screaming silently, I know.
I know this, because I am screaming, too.
I don’t know… maybe I am destined for the frying pan also…