I sink or swim

I sink or I swim.

It is my choice.

 

I can jump in

but yet the question remains

should I?

 

I feel the water suffocating

me

all around

should I sink or swim?

 

I am caught between

the

moment of indecision

of what appears

to be

right or wrong

but yet

do I really

know the

truth.

 

What is right?

Joy or rightness?

Bliss or correctness?

Happiness or moralness?

 

I feel the water

so warm and inviting

but yet

my hands are cold

and numb.

 

I shiver.

 

Deep inside I know

the answer

to what cuts so deep.

 

Yet, I can’t decide.

 

The moment calls

and yet

I am unsure

of whether or not

to jump

into

the unknown depths

or stay

on this safe

shore.

 

While I live on this dividing

line

between

truth and

the fiction

that I tell myself,

I

yearn

and

break

deep inside.

 

I weep.

 

I sink or swim.

It is my choice.

 

9-derwent-water-lake-district-england

Soon, I will be here in the Lakes Region of England.  Will I sink or swim?

 

 

 

What do I want

What do I want you ask?

 

I want to be adored both for my

inner

beauty

and

my

brilliance.

 

I want to be held

during the deep

night

and

never let go

as if

I were a liferaft

drifting on

the open sea.

 

I want to be

looked at

like

I was being

looked at

for the very first time

when I first

caught your eye.

 

I want to be

kissed

like that first night

when you

kissed me

all by

surprise

and I

acquiesced

with a silent

return.

 

I want

someone to

whisper so

softly

how extraordinary I am

to them

and them

alone

night and day

day and night

morning

and

evening.

 

I want to

once more

make love

with abandon

as if it were

like it was

once before

but never

again.

 

I want to

feel like a woman

again,

just

one

more time,

feel

like a

woman.

 

I want to

be released from

the burdens

the pains

the heartache

of this

life.

 

I want once more

to just live again

to be loved again

to be a woman again.

 

You asked me what I want.

What I always had…..until I didn’t have it.
20462_298541517479_6912788_n188708_10150124315657480_7304399_n20462_298516887479_7165859_n

 

 

I come to you

I come to you…

with open

hands full

of gifts for you,

gifts from a

wounded soul.

 

I come to you…

from a time past

feeling

an ancient circle

close

amongst us

as we draw

nearer

together

like two

dancers

barely touching.

 

I come to you…

with wounded gifts

full of healing

full of hope

full of love

from a

soul

full of compassion

and

longing.

 

I come to you…

shining my light

illuminating those darkest of

dark

places

that have never seen the light

like unearthing a

golden goblet

at an archeological

dig from

long past.

 

I come to you…

taking your hand in mind

and watch

you open up like

the blossoms of flowers in

the bright sunshine

giving yourself

to my light,

so

desperately

giving yourself

to my light.

 

I come to you…

I touch your wound

and

bring you deeper

into my enfold

holding you

close to my heart

softly

slowly

healing your hurts.

 

I come to you…

with no answers for what is felt

deep

inside,

no reason

to explain

for it is

kept

deep

deep

down in our

sacred

places.

 

I come to you…

not knowing who we are

only listening to the

depths

within

as I

tenderly

bear the gifts

of

a

wounded soul

offering

healing

hope

love.

 

And, you take them.

Whispering

an

unspoken

prayer.

 

 

When I think about Chicago…

When I think about Chicago…

I think of you.

Wandering slowly

along the streets

memories following me

around

each

corner

in every

crevice.

 

When I think about Chicago…

I think of you.

I can’t escape.

It has been so long

since I have seen you

but yet

here it feels like

a yesterday

that I can’t have

anymore.

 

When I think about Chicago…

I think of you.

Loneliness overwhelms

me

even as I

walk in

a throng

of people

full of chatter

and

laughter

leaving me

silently replaying

a life

long ago

as if it were

a

silent movie

on a big screen.

 

When I think about Chicago…

I think of you.

How enamored you

were

with

such a

vibrant,

full of life,

attractive

young women

adoringly

loving

you.

 

When I think about Chicago…

I think of you.

Only you.

 

I wonder if today

you would

still love me

like you did then?

Would you still

find me

vivacious

and full of life

now when none of that is left?

 

When I think about Chicago

I think of you.

I wonder if our love

would have been

so perfectly imperfect

now when nothing seems right anymore?

 

When I think about Chicago…

I think of you.

I wonder if you would

still look at me

the way you did then?

Would you still want to hold me

like you did before?

Would you still reach for my hand

and

and never let it go

now when my youngness is gone

and my beauty

has faded?

 

When I think of Chicago…

I think of you.

Of our past.

And, of

our future

that never came.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My deepest longing

What I really long for…

is to be touched as I was once touched

with adoration

and desire

and

passion

like a slow burning

ember in a fire

left to die.

 

What I really long for is…

to be celebrated

and honored

and

cherished

by a knowing glance

and piercing eyes

all the days of my life.

 

What I really long for is

a time

when I felt

free

to explore

to just be

living life with pure abandon

releasing myself

from the frantic pace

of a life

lived without purpose

with a drive to accumulate

and amass

what cannot

be kept.

 

What I really long for is…

to feel the pain

that sears my heart

like a knife cuts

through a

luscious piece

of fruit

to its deepest core

dividing it

in half

releasing its precious

juices.

 

What I really long for is

to travel to the heart

of it it all

to immerse myself

in a land

where

intersections cross

divides

and divides

create

intersections

and where

I am a bystander

roaming

amongst

the carnage.

 

What I really long for is…

to heal the wounds

in a world

where hatred runs

rampant

and

goodness

is hidden

beneath an exterior of greed

and ideology

and

ego.

 

What I really long for is…

to find the purpose

hidden behind

a false

exterior

living deep

within the interior

enrapturing a shuttered heart

encapsulating

a longing soul

calling

desperately

to be recognized.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A self that you see.

I have but more than one self.

I have a self that you see

when you look

at me

in the early morning light

before the world awakes.

 

I have a self that you see

that is tired and

worn from the daily

tragedies that

we call life.

 

I have a self that you see

when I am alone

in my

solitude

with no

one but me

to judge and allow.

 

I have a self that you see

when I am charged

with excitement

and electricity

from

just

being

in your presence.

 

I have a self that you see

when I reach

over and

touch

your hand

and hold
it

softly

within mine.

 

I have a self that is not singular.

It is plural.

 

There are many selves that

live within me

that breathe inside of me

that wait to be born.

 

I have a self that is plural.

Wake up.

Wake up.

 

Wake up.

To a world that is

crumbling all around

us

in untruths

and manipulation

in the name

of

power

and greed

and fame.

 

Wake up.

To an earth that

is crying out

in

injustice

to the hurt

that it

ensures

everywhere

and in

everyplace.

 

Wake up.

To the hate and divisions

that exist

because of

deeply-rooted

beliefs

that fester

under the wounds

left

scabbed over.

 

Wake up.

To what is beautiful

all around

that goes

unnoticed as we

silently walk by

in our hurried

rush.

 

Wake up.

To the ancient call

that we fail to hear

that

cries out from

deep inside

of a well

that reaches

all the

way to the soul.

 

Wake up.

We are hurting.

 

Wake up.

We are harming.

 

Wake up.

We are dying.

 

Wake up.