By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
to sit outside in the night, to sit with the soul of pain
and not hassle it; to feel it like the passing of darkness into morning.
to wait, to wait under white sheets, within white walls,
with the hours, the tensed clinging, fighting; tones of words, of gut sounds sharper than truth.
to sit with it. sit with it long enough to feel you know it a little. you may feel it again, but maybe
you will be more at ease.
we will have our peace.
Going through posts on my old blog. They’re kinda prophetic in parts, and scary that way, but mostly entirely genuine. They continue to be relevant
There was some day last week where he said I was quieter than usual. I told him I have dreams where I cry in my sleep, and wake up feeling strange from them for the rest of the day. If not sad, I’m more solemn; close to some weird edge. I think I’ve been like this a lot lately. And I feel it when some dreams are heavier than others. The dream I had was about someone I loved leaving forever, on some road trip. I’m to the side silently praying some goodbye and they’re in the passenger’s seat, blankly looking ahead.
'This is a shrine to the bruises in my heart inflicted by people I let close by loving'
So I go back to the cabin and for the first time in a long time I’m trying to hide my eyes from everyone.. There are times when you cry a little and it doesn’t show so much after a little while, and other times where you cry beyond point of reparation, and it’s just going to show as something strange on your face for hours afterwards. So this is one of those times, and I’m still feeling on edge, and feeling how easy it is to break back into it all at any given moment. Yea, I break, I snap, I can feel things crack inside sometimes. The driver’s seat of my car is every sort of volatile feeling;
those dark woods, punctuated by bright cabin lights, bringing me to some strange place where I’m lighter, less anxious; I’m burning things whenever I look into the campfire.
And I guess that night I unexpectedly fell through a few levels of earth and finally, as I lay winded on my back, it’s all in front of me: a quietness, and the Milky Way passing by above. I wasn’t alone. I was grateful, I was exhausted; and for the moment, sitting closer to peace than I remember being for such a long time.
There is too much I wish I knew about my pulse, but for the most part I know that I can follow it anywhere.