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Posts Tagged ‘believe’

No more lying in state… waiting, always.

Trapped by the mind,

A never-ending procession.

Circling by… glancing down on the body apart from the mind.

“Wake up!”, I yell.

Lying in state,

A prison… a cave… a road leading to nowhere.

And yet…

Movement.

Slowly at first,

… and then,

the eyes open — blinking,

the heart beats — steady,

the breath comes — in, out,

Movement.

Gathering speed,

Stepping over the trap door.

Tired of waving the arms,

Whispering, “see me, or don’t”.

The quiet rejection of a smile,

The quiet smirk finds its mark,

The quiet kills.

And yet…

Squinting and looking to the sky,

Listening for the sound of the beating heart,

Forcing the cold air into the collapsed lungs,

I am not merely alive,

I am no longer lying in state.

Alive, and living.

See me… or don’t.

Photo by Annie Q. Syed

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… and write the words that center my soul.

I must have walked a million miles, barefoot on eggshells all around.

Hoping I will soon take flight

and build my wings while falling slowly down.

Hoping I will float across these eggshells all around,

still, it never makes sense.

All the thoughts and words and feelings and pain and hurt and anger and longing and love and fear and comfort…

… and write the words that center my soul.

Give me peace from all these thoughts, all the mis-directions of my dreams, all the words that surfaced out-of-order.

I never wanted to be a lesson you had to learn.

I never wanted to be the reality of hate.

I never wanted to…

I must have walked a million miles, barefoot on eggshells all around.

… and write the words that center my soul.

To turn it all around,

to make the ending seem not so out of reach.

… and write the words that center my soul.

I must have walked a million miles, barefoot on eggshells all around,

these cuts so small you can barely see.

But me… I feel them.

Each one, I know what look put it there,

Each one, I know what word carved the scar deep into my skin,

Each one, I know what thought made me wish I could fly instead of walk,

across the jagged edge of the frail eggshells.

… and write the words that center my soul.

Sitting here, searching for them,

prying open my mind.

… and write the words that center my soul,

and hope they drown out the deafening sound of these cracking eggshells that surround —

all around.

I must have walked a million miles, barefoot on eggshells all around,

just to find my own words,

just to hear my own voice,

just to soar above the breaking of the eggshells…

I must have walked a million miles, barefoot on eggshells all around,

to get to where I am now,

to see the place I want to be,

to know it’s not so out of reach.

… and write the words that center my soul.

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I am thrilled to be part of a wonderful community of poets over at the Promising Poets’ Poetry Cafe and even more thrilled to be awarded this Perfect Poet Award. Please head over there and check out all the wonderful writers — you’ll thank me.

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A friend of mine, Judy Clement Wall, just updated her blog recently with a list of ten things she believes, now. I think the now part is significant. I think what we believe in changes throughout our life — maybe depending on who you think you are, who you actually are, or who you might be striving to be. So, the question of what do I believe in now is difficult at best.

When I was around 5, I truly believed that the Easter bunny was in my house, sneaking off with my newly decorated eggs. Over the years, I’ve asked my siblings if they ever actually saw the Easter bunny in our house (I’m not quite sure it didn’t actually happen).

When I was a kid, I spent every summer with my grandparents — (as the youngest, I suppose it was my duty). I believed without doubt that there was some sort of monster living in their basement. I never went down there alone. I even had dreams about the monster in the basement. In the dreams, I would walk down a narrow rope bridge into the basement. I could hear the monster growling lowly as I approached it. But, I always woke up before I had to see the full horror of the thing. That “believe” changed by the time I was 11 or 12, when I discovered that being alone wasn’t all bad and the basement was a great hiding out place.

When I was around 15 or 16, I believed I was going to play in Wimbledon. (No, seriously — I really thought it was possible). I hit a million balls off the back stop at my high school. I always wanted to practice with the boys because I thought it would give me an edge. And then I played a girl who had the same “believe”. Her “believe” seemed much more viable than mine as I exited the regional tournament quicker than I’d hoped.

What we believe in changes with age, with circumstances … with life.

Maybe my confusion comes from the word itself: believe. (I, of course, googled to see what the actual definition of the word was — it was spectacular). By definition: believe is to have confidence in the truth, the existence, or the reliability of something, although without absolute proof that one is right in doing so.

This explains so much really. The entire existence of this word is based on opinion, confidence — without proof. Maybe the answers aren’t always in the concrete — maybe the answers are somewhere floating around, hoping someone grabs on to them and takes them as their own.

So, what do I believe in…now?

I believe that everyone has something to offer. Even those we think are beyond reproach. Because, at some point in everyone’s life, they must have done something worthy of praise, something worthy of being believed in.

So, maybe, that’s my “believe” that I will take into the new year. That everyone deserves to be believed in — if only for a little while. Everyone deserves their “believe” to be plucked out of the air and made real.

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