Monday, April 29, 2013

Let Me be Your Teacher, Girl.

Let me be your teacher, girl.

The pain of that which no longer is
is pain indeed.
It is painted with the blood of life and
It is submerged and soaked in the
love and intensity of the intoxicating dance
that brought you to this very point.

Let me be your teacher, girl.

Know that you are ok.
As the Seuss says,
"Don't be sad that it's over; smile because it happened."
And truly, my princess
it is never really over.
The energy that was, is and ever will be.
Once the brush has put it's stroke on the canvas, it will
always be there.

Let me be your teacher, girl.

The hole that you feel each time
another precious something
sinks into behind you,
it is not a hole at all.
It is simply the feeling of the tides
pouring out.
Allow the tide to be whatever it will be,
my, flower, and trust that when the
goodness fills again,
Joy will soothe you.

Let me be your teacher, girl.


Right now it just feels like the sound of my own voice screaming inside my head.

Hear me!
See me!
Let me out!

I want to feel the love I know is possible.

I want to express the exactness of what is inside of me in every way there is, creating a bridge from the inside of me to everyone else and there will be no not understanding. No translation necessary.

I want my words to matter
and yet
I know they do and they don't all at the same time.
There are millions of voices.
They have things to say, expressing their own inner understanding and turmoil and hatred and fear and discovery and wonder and trapped-ness.

Does everyone feel this way?
That there is this wholeness confined within the walls of who they are, and as hard as they try, they cannot share it completely.
It's like there is this vastness of wordless


and there is really no way to share it.
I wonder if we all feel that way and we're looking for the bridge to one another in the wrong place.

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

I do.

I don't have room.

But see, I want to love you.
I love you.
I do.
But I don' t have room in my


See.... I love you.
I do.
and I want to love you

I want to want you and love you and need you and consume you
but I don't have room
for you.
Except when I do.
Which is not
But is sometimes.

I want to have you there
just where I want you
within reach
just within
the span of my touch.
I don't have room for you
I have too many things filling up the room
in my
and there is no room
for you
when you want there to be.

But I love you,
you see.

I do.