gold

remember those boxing days when all i dreamed was being known by self?
those days meant writing
strength on walls &
free spirit on wind &
independence being flag flown proud.

i searched for my box i'd pack my me in-to. i'd paint my lines so when you inquired, my picture'd be drawn & characteristics listed & my being neat & concise.

but then, these ugly months shredded paper box & flames ate up list & those strong/free/independent writings were left erased & forgotten.

that's why i couldn't see my me in those beer-grinned lima photos, & i couldn't name that girl blissed on those mountain tops, & my cloudy skull couldn't remember self. the broken me couldn't face old brightness, & past smiles became foreign.

then autumn bloomed & the grief set in, & the fallen leaves felt sunken & sad. i thought they'd take old me with them.

but then i took to those aspens inked on my ribs, but to the real ones with real leaves, & i remembered that they're still beautiful after they shed all their reds & yellows & greens. they may not glow, but they still make mouth corners curl. there's less of them to love, but that almost makes it run deeper.

even though so much of me has ashed from the burn, i'm still beautiful. my box may be dead & that list disappeared, & my me less clear, but the me left is standing. and standing after the flames & the storm is more than i would have expected.

i know the girl in the photos better than i used to; she doesn't have much to hide behind. with scars red & tender, she's the rawest she's ever been. she's been touched by the flame, but that's how she became gold. or at least she's closer to it than her brighter self ever dreamed.

sink or swim

colorado's drowning, & at the beginning i thought i'd sink with it.

but then on that twenty-five speedway with the black rain gathering & the lightening shatter, i found myself soaked in sun. it felt like i might be learning to swim.

this head spin halted my run & made me seek higher ground. the weigh made my flight cancelled til further notice, but my wings will be stronger & my soar lighter for it.

it felt good that day driving head first into the storm.

this time i'm stuck in the rain, but at least i saw it coming. this time i wasn't looking over my shoulder seeing it's lurk & planning my next runway. this time i'll stand longer than the clouds and i'll shine.

flow.

last may i was fire.

those months before, those ones when i fell into my own & my aries burst free,
that's when i was pure
flame.

that's when forging path with no relent was all, & taking steps that meant safe were none. i didn't see the beauty in living easy & being soft.

this may, i broke & crumbled & my stumbles continue.

i haven't seen the end of days where first day's breath is covered in tears.
i haven't seen the end of those anxiety chills & grief stabs.
i haven't seen the end of the nightmare that night wreaks.

surviving this may was the one that showed me that being soft is strength & burning through life isn't the only wholeness means.

i lived for constant hunt on unknown ground to find new faces that would make new words in hopes of newness & birth.

now, i'm finding my known faces with their new/old words are taking away some of my dark.
the heaviness fades when i drag my self to tippy tops with some of my most beloved.
those familiar faces that my old life knew make me remember the me he struck didn't die in the flame. she'll find her way back someday.

today's the first day in four months that i said that and believed it.

me/her

i haven't quite found the words but shadow or cloud seem to fit more or less. it always lurks & follows and makes light lost & cold win & one of which is followed by storm.

the shadow or cloud, whichever you choose, threatens more lately to make permanent stay. sometimes they'd vacation but these days shadow grows long & cloud grows dark & this spirit of mine is left rained out & wilted.

they keep saying there are still people that love me, despite the ones that curse & defame. it's hard to feel through shadow & cloud, & it's making this island grow & heart droop & foot steps heavier still.

those pictures of who i used to be, they seem so far & plastic; was i really that blissed & free & windy then? maybe it's a mask, maybe shadow & cloud me finally won out. maybe my prison will outlast his & i'll never feel the sun again. maybe i'll give up & see what that would mean.

why didn't i see that he wanted to crush my me? why didn't i stop him before it was too late?

the girl in the photos, i miss her. maybe someday she'll come back.

sameness/deadness

why do we always want things to be the same?

why do i always find myself dreaming of past self & past love & past friends & past happiness? i guess now it makes sense when light's few & far & trenches are deepest & breath hasn't come easy in months. but still i wish i was old me with old friends & old life & old comfort. i wish i could disappear that night still & the days that roared and shattered my life.

it's funny; i look back to past aches and remember thinking they loomed higher than all the rest. in a lot of ways, i miss them. these days, they look marginal & miniature & pesky. funny how present aches always seem to ache harder & dig deeper & crush soul faster.

tomorrow with the return & the old faces & the night memories & the people in uniforms & their questions all seem too big for crumbling me. now to see what those faces & mouths that broke me will say with their eyes & look with their mouths. & maybe i'll run & they'll think they won & my back will shy forever.

i wish i thought i could win someday.