When I was a kid, my mom would try to teach me to look up.
Look at that squirrel, Brooke!
Look at those flowers! They’re naked ladies!
And I would.
Every time I would try to see what she saw, but I just didn’t care.
Her love of nature kind of bored me actually, but I pretended to love it for her because I saw how happy it made her.
But then I moved here and everything seems to have a different color to it. Everything seems brighter, newer, and maybe even more magical?
So I started looking up more.
I started seeing the birds, the clouds, and the trees the way she use to and I finally understood what she saw.
It was love.
Sometimes I read your shit and can’t relate.
The words are too fluffy.
The sentences are too dry.
And the meaning is empty.
I wonder why you even write at all.
I woke up to the flame
The fire dancing between your fingers
You giggled as I stared
Scared you would burn
But you never did
You and him
Always knew how to play between the lines
How to push boundaries
You both laughed in the face of danger
But I never did
Instead, I was your Zazu.
Scared of getting caught
Scared of getting burned
I toed the line
Until one day the line burred
And I became the flame
I haven’t written here for a while. I guess I’ve been avoiding it. I tend to do that when I’m in conflict. Even through my past therapy lessons, I still run from my emotions. I guess some habits never change.
But I’m here now.
Writing. Thinking. Plotting.
I want to be consistent in my endeavor to be vulnerable.
I want to be more fearless.
So I’m gonna write.
And it’s going to get annoying.
But I think I need to do this.
I need to find my pain and forgive it.
Because this blaming avoidant behavior isn’t working.
So here I am.
Promising tomorrow I’ll show up.
Also, we got a new dog. Say hi to Buckley.
I feel aligned with you.
I see me
When I first met you,
I could feel your energy too.
The perfectionism, pride and potential
were swimming around you.
Me and you.
You and me.
Don’t you see?
Our past pain
Has brought us together
that one day
We’d find to be,
What I would consider,
For your forgiveness of your trauma has unlocked the mystery.
Why do they run down your face
Instead of glide
Are we to assume they are not
Or are we to assume they aren’t able?
What if they only could crawl?
Would that not be worth it all?
So let them crawl, glide, swim, jump, skip.
Describe them with intention.
Don’t assume they need tension.