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Posts Tagged ‘courage’

Dance, when you’re broken open.
Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of the fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance, when you’re perfectly free. ~~ Rumi

I break open and scatter on the floor
the spatterings of a dismantled heart
jettisoning the refuse to make more room
more room
move over so the thoughts can travel out and grab you
these ramblings
rays of hope and possibility and love
bleeding from a barrel forgotten in the rain
and I am left dancing in the middle
unaware of the spinning all around
the final splitting of the frayed rope is easy to spot
the million tears that got it there are invisible
there is fighting
fighting for control of the words
the words that spew from a beautiful mind
each word trickling out from the vein of my thoughts
forming a puddle at my feet
and I dance in my blood
the beautiful sheen of those blood splattered words
never again afraid to tell a story
the strength we have is always in us
never broken or lost or hopeless
the shit-spilling stories become our therapy and turn to art
displayed with such a lack of caution you forget to be scared
a deserted path waiting just for you
calling for you like a wolf hypnotized by the moon
it’s song is powerful
a single note can not sing the melody
these words do not tell the story
I tell the story
I control the words
I choose when to arrange them in a cry for acceptance
I choose when to arrange them in a scream to be heard
I choose when to arrange them in a whisper of possibilities
I choose to arrange them in a courage filled bomb that explodes all around
I am filled with more chapters than you can imagine
I want you to imagine
I dance around
smiling
laughing
loving
I break myself open again and scatter myself on the floor
and I dance in my blood

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I watch you,
staring so intently at the collection of toys you sculpted out of clay.
each one had your full attention,
each one felt the love of all your heart,
each one created by the bliss that lies in your mind.
I hope you have that forever.
I hope you never lose passion for things that matter.
I hope you always lose yourself in those creations.

I watch you,
your eyes sing a song the whole world can hear.
each glance takes a brick from the wall around my heart,
each glimmer reveals my lovely world,
each look brings me closer to understanding love.
I hope you see the world through those eyes.
I hope you never lose sight of your own perspective.
I hope you look in the mirror and smile at the reflection.

when the mountains in the distance scare you
… just climb them.
when the song seems to have no rhythm
… just sing it.
when the ocean looks too deep
… just swim it.
when life overwhelms you
… just live it.

I watch you,
your voice rolls sweetly across my ears.
each call of my name hangs in the air,
each laugh shakes the world free from doubt,
each question you ask has a million perfect answers.
I hope you hear your thoughts in a crowded conversation.
I hope you never listen to that voice that tries to quiet you.
I hope the story you tell will find the perfect audience.

I watch you,
my arms stretch out but know to grasp you loosely,
each breath I take leaves me hoping for another,
each thought I have is peaceful in its chaos.
each tick of the clock comes faster than I want.
I hope you take the path that calls for all your courage.
I hope you never stand still when the dance floor needs you.
I hope you leap and know your wings have always been there.

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So this is what it’s like.
The dark so thick no glimmer of light can get in.
The air so stale my lungs lurch to escape the fumes.
The sign reads, “no train horn”.
My head hurts.
My eyes are blurry.
My heart sings with the questions that only clarity can answer.
So… Many… Questions.
A million ways I’ve asked.
A million ways I’ve tried to be heard.
A million ways I’ve tried to explain a piece of the my soul to you as if there could ever be an explanation that would shed light on the darkened path that we can sometimes travel if we allow ourselves to float freely down the rabbit hole.

So this is what it’s like.
Figuring out who you are through someone else’s eyes.
Their vision is so cloudy they stumble and fall on my mistakes.
The sign reads, “you are here”.
Looking for myself.
My finger scanning the map.
My mind wanders from place to beautiful place.
So… Many… Places.
Not pulling you back to the abyss we’ve already visited.
Never wanting to pull you back.
Pulling you back would mean I’m still there too looking for some dysfunctional company because that’s the only kind of friend who would crawl into the rabbit hole with you, a beautifully fucked up friend.

So this is what it’s like.
The tunnel you’ve been crawling through suddenly opens to a rocky shore.
The rocks are so jagged but on the other side is the sweet ebb and flow of breath.
The sign reads, “always becoming”.
A calm exhale.
Toxic thoughts pushed out by the salty ocean air.
So… Many… Thoughts.
Letting go of all the small things.
Blocking them from ever returning.
The small things grow into big things and those big things can pull you under, so far under that your lungs scream at you because you’re breathing through a straw so you turn away from the rabbit hole and you grasp the hand of that friend and you walk away and dip your toes in the cool ocean not afraid to look back.

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Photo From Kind Over Matter

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I don’t want to write any words
…when I’m on the downward side of this spiral, when I’m looking through a window that’s fogged over as if a cloud dropped and settled right there, right in my line of vision. I squint and I screw my face and I narrow my eyes and I try to wipe away the fog but it goes no where. It stays… blocking my view, obscuring my words. Coiling around the flow of courage, so tight. So tight it coils, trying to scare it off. So, I don’t want to write any words when this spiral is going down.

I don’t want to write any words
…that you’ll see and read and shake your head because you knew all along. You knew nothing good would ever come of that shitty first draft so you threw it away, there was nothing more to say.
But I crept in when you weren’t looking and I rummaged through your discarded waste and I pulled the words from the bottom of that barrel and I walked away. I walked away knowing I could revise this whole story, knowing I had far more control and far more ability to tell this story than any other person, even you. So, I don’t want to write any words that you’ll see.

I don’t want to write any words
… you’ll just read them and then you’ll talk about them and then a joke will be made and a smirk will be seen and an eyebrow will raise and high fives will be collected and I’ll find myself on the outside of the circle looking through you. But behind the look will be the thought. You’ll think about all the things that could be done from now on because we know we can’t ever go back and undo that tangled feeling that lodged itself in your gut every time I tried and — how — I — tried. No matter how many times I tell you about the better days all you’ll see is how clearly I look when I’m weak. So, I don’t want to write any words that you might read.

I don’t want to write any words
… but waiting is pointless. This feeling is hit and miss, maybe now maybe later. I’ll sit down and I’ll type the words and I’ll not want to but I will because in spite of all the shouldn’ts I’ve racked up, in spite of all the stupid button pressing, in spite of all the reasons I have to hide my face and tuck my tail and bury my body in the deepest cave… I’ll write these words because I can. I can. I can make you think and make you see and make you question every decision you made. I can. So, I don’t want to write any words when I should wait.

I don’t want to write any words
… but if I don’t they’ll just explode in the space of grayness that surrounds and knock me off my wobbly perch. Those words will keep pouring out of me in a steady flow of memories, moving so fast I can’t slow them down… no control. The mystery I keep trying to solve is me and these words are the only clues I have and each time I try to peek inside your world to see if any parts of me are there, you slap the curiosity so hard… so hard. So hard you slap but the curiosity just grows, it doesn’t stop. It doesn’t slow down. So, I don’t want to write any words that might explode in my face

— but they need me to…

So, I will.

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I’m not a writer,
nor a poet,
nor a painter.
I’m not a lost soul,
nor a student,
nor a teacher.
I’m not a follower,
nor a leader,
nor a stand-in-liner.
I’m not searching for myself,
nor finding something else,
nor longing to belong.

I am trust,
and I am my truth,
and I am my story.
I am telling,
and I am singing,
and I am my song.

I am this moment.
I am these words,
I am this page.

I am more,
I am enough.

I am becoming.

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dear _____,
stay.
stay.
… and stand fearlessly in the midst of it all.

there will be times that running away… far far away, will seem like the smartest thing to do. but know this, it’s not. running only puts the problem farther out of reach and harder to solve.
it’s not always going to be complicated either — learn to recognize the difference. learn to recognize the difference between someone else’s tragic bullshit and your beautifully complicated story.
stay.
stay.
… and stand fearlessly in the midst of it all.

when you’re young… too young to know such things, too young to worry about such things, too young to experience all of that — that complicated soul searching bullshit that you are too young to think about… stop. walk away. retain your childhood, the carefree skipping around in life that we are all entitled to — yes, entitled to.
stay.
stay.
… and stand fearlessly in the midst of it all.

when that summer seems to go on forever, lie on the ground and stare up at the stars and know the complete feeling of being so small and alone and yet you will never feel so connected to the world. let the shining of the stars and the chirping of the tree frogs and the swooping of the bats paralyze you with the knowledge that you are small… in the very best possible way, you are small.
stay.
stay.
… and stand fearlessly in the midst of it all.

stick around after closing time, that’s when all the best stories will reveal themselves but don’t become a story someone else writes. don’t waste time looking for a perfect apple… they all have bruises and those bruises have something to say — listen. listen to their story. don’t stand still, don’t ever stand still, keep moving forward.
and remember, forward won’t always be the right direction or the best direction or the safest… but you don’t need the safest.
stay.
stay.
… and stand fearlessly in the midst of it all.

when you get to the bottom of your rope, don’t tie a knot in it — let go. yes, let go and soar and be curious about what’s at the bottom. no more directionless, no more drifting, no more worrying, no more wishing — just let go.
never be made useless.
so don’t run away… reach out, reach out as far as you can and keep reaching — the hand you’ve been waiting for will be there.

dear _____,
stay.
stay.
… and stand fearlessly in the midst of it all.

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My mind keeps searching for the answers…

harassing my thoughts like the waves with the shore.

Everything that I’ve ever known…

can’t compare to what I forgot so long before.

me,

… always becoming.

I look up to the night sky…

comforted that we share the same moon.

It makes me smile…

even when I walk this beach alone.

me,

… always becoming.

I wrote out so many of my hopes…

and tossed them in the sea.

letting all those scattered thoughts…

fill the space in between.

me,

… always becoming.

I’m tired, I need to rest…

still battered from handing you my words.

I remember that horrible feeling…

as if my parts were all left in discord.

me,

… always becoming.

Sitting on this beach, my bruises so exposed…

feels like I’ve walked a million miles.

Dreamt in black and white of this hope…

shielding my soul from the brightness of your smile.

me,

… always becoming.

Trying to gather all the pieces of my heart…

holding them so delicately in my hand.

You’ll find me standing at the edge of the shore…

watching the waves battle my footprints for the sand.

me,

… always becoming.

My hopes bottled up…

rolling away on top of the waves.

I willingly tossed them…

now it’s clear how to be brave.

me,

… always becoming.

I’d walk those million miles…

just to sit on that beach for a while,

just to feel the cool ocean breeze,

just to be there and relax and breathe,

just to dig my toes in the same forgiving shore,

I’d walk those million miles.

But now I know,

the tide rolled away, again…

and me?

I’m always becoming, always.

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this is for the savior of the broken,

the writer of the story,

the singer of the song.

this is for the conjurers of the calamity,

the poets and the poem,

the artist and the collage.

this is for the books,

the words,

the stories we weave,

the mothers,

the fathers,

the way they make us believe.

this is for the gamblers who lose,

but still play the game.

the dreamers who dream,

not afraid of the flame.

this is for the beaten,

the bruised,

the scared,

the nervous,

the hurt,

the shattered,

the stuck.

this is for the ones who get back up,

for everyone who dares to move,

for those who keep letting in the light,

for those who stand facing the storm.

this is for the honest,

the conscious,

the diggers,

the searchers,

the seekers.

this is for the quest we don’t walk away from,

the puzzle we want to put together,

the lesson we keep learning.

this is for the blurry eyed star gazers,

the unabashedly flawed teachers,

the unapologetic hand-holders.

this is for you,

and me.

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this is the poem i didn’t write.

it put me on a collision course with all the stones i threw.

it pushed me within inches of the blue part of the flame.

it made me hold my gaze so long my eyes burned.

it tied me to the tracks and walked slowly away.

it cut my anchor and left me drifting from the shore.

it opened the door and locked it as i passed through.

it cringed when i sang out of key.

it left me stranded on this page because you were afraid to acknowledge it.

it whispered in my ear all the ways the pain would go away.

it thundered around in my head not letting me sleep.

it clinched my jaw so tight it ached for days.

it held me under the waves until i quit struggling.

it confused my mind with a race track of thoughts.

it hummed in my ears at a deafening silence.

it filled my pen with angry words and sneered when i couldn’t let them out.

it laughed when the words went astray.

it proudly held up another rejection note.

it jarred me awake just so i wouldn’t remember.

it convinced me that breathing was bad.

it gave a fleeting thought all the power.

it lied and said there’s no room for any space between.

it told me you read it.

it pushed dysfunction to the front of my head.

it made me look ridiculous for pressing publish.

it promised it would all be clean slated.

it yelled when i tried to start over.

it ripped out my heart and wiped it on this page.

it cursed me with a year of silence.

it jumped from the highest cliff to the jagged rocks below.

it smiled at me from the murky bottom.

it complicated the words i wanted to say.

it dared to think i wasn’t strong enough.

it quivered when i said “fuck what you think”.

it shook in fear at my determination.

it laid prostrate long enough to write it down.

this is the poem i didn’t write.

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do you sleep?

there’s a humming in my ears,

a ringing,

a sound that will not go away.

i cover my ears,

i bury my head,

… and yet, it is there.

there’s a singing i can hear,

a song,

a chorus just out of my reach.

i turn my head,

i strain to hear the words,

… and yet, it is there.

there is laughter all around,

a joy,

i see it in the distance,

reaching out my hand,

i can barely catch the vibrations,

… and yet, it is there.

there’s a life i can see,

a light,

i turn my face,

i raise my hands,

i can just feel the outline,

… and yet, it is there.

there is courage in this place,

movement,

my feet run faster,

i jump and my wings spread out,

… and yet, it is there.

it is there.

do you sleep?

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