______ now, I am

I’m not dead 

Fear is paralyzing; the ultimate distraction
That no one has ever, ever been able to afford.
In the arena of my mind, I set fire to the stage and watch Love and

Fear duke it out to be the last one standing on the ashes.

Focus is my Victory.
I can truly hear myself
(((SCREAM)))
Trampling between pride and hunger, I see the pattern

I’m.mortal.
“i-m-m-o-r-t-a-l”
Soul is who aches when I cry and who rejoices at the tears.
The stream is the aftermath.
What’s screaming but Fear shrinking in sight of Heart?
You?
A single vessel, for the moment, her 1000th time saving the world, today.
Sound waves bare witness to your Exodus, forever echoed throughout the Ether.
I’ve given up to be the ashes, the sand in the arena of Love.
Because
I’m.mortal

immortal
Carried away in the wind of my thoughts, I fall, hard, to the floor
Here. Again.
Buried a mile under the sea of ashes with Fear grabbing for my ankles.
Just one pinch
Focus is my Victory,

I can truly hear myself
Bouncing between Hunger and Heart
I see the pattern
Silence is my solace
“I-a-m-i-m-m-o-r-t-a-l”

“Unknown”, now, “I am”

I am immortal 

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Always Almost There…

It won’t be long

Til I get there

My heart’s desire

Been a long road,

But I ain’t tired

I fell in love with the journey

Headed home,

Feeling leery

Don’t know what waits for me

Fire burning in my chest

Just can’t rest

Til I take the first steps

Of my next Trek

Climbing a Mountain

Talking about climbing a mountain while climbing a mountain is one of the most difficult, dare to say, impossible, tasks I can imagine. Yet, when writing, whether fiction or non-fiction, it is a battle re-purposing your feelings, thoughts, predispositions, all that is you, essentially. The task of turning your day, your life, as much as you can recall and place value upon, into perspective, to be interpreted and ingested, is a tough one. Now add the burden of expectation to that. You gamble with the possibilities and consequences of offering another road to the path towards understanding self as fully as possible in this realm. Providing the tools for others on the way to self-discovery, subsequently world harmony, through perspective is not an easy chore; especially when you’re an expressive soul who’s prone to self-sabotage out of fear of that untrodden terrain (self).

So how do you remove yourself from fear of growth? Self-discovery?

Remove your expectations.

Easier said than done. I’m ascending the incline as I write this with the wind pulling me to the peak, my feet planted in the crevices of the rocks, I’m climbing.

I could fall, but I don’t see it.The peak is my goal

I hear the raging river below me

Waters crashing, lulling my weary heart to rest

It doesn’t dare skip a beat

Blood pulsing, rushing to my feet

Once planted in stone

Uprooted

Indomitable

Toes, ice cold to the touch

Knocking the rocks into dust

As I climb the beast that entombed my spirit

Getting over me

And getting closer

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

PenTrek: Pushin Through

Pushin through life like a drive-thru
Choices choices choices
That inner voice cutting through like a slicer
But she’s Pushin through
Getting over herself
So she can be herself

Get back to that higher plane
Runnin into pain
Resilience never waning
Sometimes it needs more explaining
This needs more or less
Sometimes I don’t have the answers
Sometimes YOU DON’T HAVE THE ANSWERS, SWAY
Sometimes you wished your day would go by faster
Sometimes you wish you could grab one more hour

Pushin through
Out of your mind

Salima’s Pride

Salima's Pride

Salima decided hunger had gotten the best of her heart. She feared the thought of finding strength. Hunger fed her heart so, she craved it even in the light of her struggles. Good times were unpredictable and short-lived. Hunger was the beast she knew. Slipping in and out of herself, restless, confident, terrified, she’d blended with the beast, a shadow of herself. A hero and a pity. A shell to be shed. The inevitable was clear, one day soon, wasn’t soon enough. So she’d breathe and die wrapped around Hunger’s finger. She was victorious. She’d found a purpose she would die for.

What else is there to do but die hungry?

Living was a myth

Hope was for the dying

And as long as Salima had Hunger, she had something.

The beast she knew.

Better than a long, silent death, filled with Hope.

Days passed

And still Hunger hadn’t tired of Salima

Her heart longed to be released

Her body, still in prime health, had betrayed her deepest wish- to die with the passing of Time

She felt abandoned for the first time in her existence.

Death had left her behind, in the care of Hunger, her devoted lover.

A devotion she despised.

And depended upon.

But there was something grabbing a hold of her spirit.

It was a light, dancing far off in the distance.She sat up, her back detaching from the tree trunk she’d called home.

Her knees cracked as she rose to kneel and lean forward to push herself off of the ground.

Standing

Her arms locked, holding her body still as the earth flipped, tossed and sprayed all around her.

Ground

And she remembered.

Her mother

The water

The cracking of the pillars that held up their house

When the wind blew too hard

And the sea forgot its bounds

Washing away her life

All life

As she knew it

Her bed, as it floated away on the tides, carrying the last picture she had of her mother

The pantry that they could never fill, consumed by the sea’s waters in the blink of an eye

She remembered

When she met Hunger

She wasn’t in love at first

She’d been convinced

That Hunger was all she had

But as she rose, her spine climbing itself, she remembered

She remembered her spine

Her backbone

As she rose, squaring her chest

Hunger faded away, a memory buried deep in the rubble she once called home

She squinted her eyes, hoping to get a glimpse of the light that had captured her spirit

She watched them tarry away, and the blood rushing to her feet

Lifting and stamping each one on the ground, rhythmically, she regained full strength

She had to catch up to her spirit

She ran

Away,

Toward

Herself.

The light

She sought and created…

(Photo Credit: Joshua Keating)

Donate to those affected by the typhoon in the Philippines: http://www.redcross.org

The Weather

Got a lot on my head
Ready to take a trek
Contemplating my next step
What move’ll be the best
Can’t say I’m confused
Lost or dismayed
Just keeping the script moving
Plotting, but I’m the catalyst
The timing… and space
Creating a world
Saving another
Asking myself
why even bother?
Tonight I’m gonna watch the weather.