There are times when growth is right at the surface. Our resistance to seeing the truth can create incredible stress and pain if we allow it. What follows is a series of poems I wrote in one such moment.
I've been absent. I have been struggling with this underlying sadness, and a dark, dreary apathy. It's ironic, because I'm a basically happy person. I laugh a lot and find much in life to love. And yet, this writing has brought out the pain underlying it all. In honesty, I've always known it was there. It hangs like clouds off in the distance, signaling a pending storm. I work hard to keep the storm at bay. Working hard here being a physical statement as well as an emotional one. Go, go, go. Do, do, do.
No, I'm not talking possession
or anything Satanic.
I'm talking about those demons
that swirl around in your head
saying you aren't good enough
or don't know enough,
the ones that make you feel like
you can't breathe,
you could jump out of your skin,
you might just go crazy.
The moment of panic,
the moment I realize
I've been baring my soul
and placing it out into the world.
Anyone could read what I write
and know me
better than most people
who are close to me.
It takes sheer will
to continue down this path.
I feel as though I'm
Does the fear I feel inside myself
have anything to do with you
or is it really about something inside of me
something which colors my view
I'm starting to think I project
these feelings upon your soul.
The truth, is likely more difficult,
I think I own this hole.
So what's the real risk in knowing?
What I'm unwilling to see
when I start to worry and fret?
What's going on in little old me?