Saturday, 9 February 2019

This is not a poem

Meditation // Manifestation

There's a sadness that always lurks over me, around me. It hovers like a storm cloud. like the rain wanting to pour, instead rests heavy on my shoulders. Sometimes I think I broke my own heart.
It's hard to reconcile with. I don't know how to silence the thunder in my chest, how to sip deeper breaths
I wish for open spaces, to understand forgiveness
reconciling transgressions as lessons.
I plead with god(s) and humans alike to be good to me; ripped the shirt off my back just so someone would stay the night with me. I can't remember when I began to make myself small.
I find I need to be reminded that there is soft and there is raw, there is honesty and there is brutality.
How do you learn about love?
I never felt Home about a place. I've dreamt of freedom and safety but woke to thunder without a storm
screaming in my chest.
I'm afraid
The ground beneath me has always shook; I've been told that no one saves those who fall between the cracks, no one feels sorry for the little black girl who couldn't keep up. -despite the fact that she's been tethered or neglected.
I swear I am more beautiful than this
It's just;
I don't know how but I broke my own heart. I don't know how to sew much less stitch a bleeding heart.
perhaps this is why I'm uncertain about love.

I know what anger looks like
and I'm a damn good runner.


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