Little Bird Poetry

How do I even put this ineffable feeling to word, Like my mind is more clear? How am I to articulate the feeling of being awake, After so long asleep? It feels as though the weight has not been lifted, But merely shifted to part of myself where it feels more bearable. A purpose, a peace, renewed within myself. A sudden realization of self, hitting my stride and feeling so wonderfully at peace with it all. I have sat, for the evening, listening to the ticking of my flea market clock, Watching the sun set through my window, Feeling the warmth as it gradually fades from light, to a gentle glow in my chest. No one thing has brought me here, no one person has led the charge. I simply have found myself overlooking a meadow, where there was once a barren field. No one moment has brought upon this epiphany of self. Yet, I find myself standing here, nonetheless, breathless, in this moment I wondered to know if it'd ever come. Like pieces finally clicking together, like a pregnant desire fin...

I look back into the void and see a set of eyes looking back Reflecting parts of myself back I had long laid to rest As I no longer feel the need to hide Ineffable is not even close to the word that I feel accurately articulates the way I feel Not lightning  Nor thunder Not flashing Nor light Just warmth.  Like the first real ray of sun cresting the mountain after a long winter, Just subtle wind, winding change, snaking its way through the folds of my own inter-workings Quiet and calm A voice comes through Changing of waves that interlink in a way two long lost puzzle pieces connect You, the final piece of the mosaic, prized, that an artisan has searched high and low for I look forward, seeing myself reflected back in the figure of another How striking, how odd, to feel myself mirrored, How I may be able to speak and be understood, not simply listened to like a record on repeat, How is it possible I come across someone who so closely mirrors the walk I've tread, How have I not...

 "Why is it that grief cannot be a straight forward path?" I can't seem to comprehend  An arrow, shot from the bend of a bow is direct, Piercing, pulling, tearing, Slicing its way cleanly from one side to the other of my soul, Just like the day I lost you. What bitter games do the gods play, Is it to their delight to watch me find my way around and around with it? The same way we may observe a dog chasing it's own tail, A silly thing to watch them catch it, only for them to realize it was attached to themselves all along. I can't escape the loss, just like an appendage I feel I've lost, the ghost of sensations that no longer I am able to feel. I grieve an ever distant growing image of you. Like a photograph carefully preserved. I see the corners of your mouth turned up, the way your teeth dance across your lower lip, Hair ruffled in the way only my fingers could've been the cause of. Like the photo that graces the front of an end of life service pamphlet, ...

 It’s mid summer now The air has changed into a thick blanket Warm Humid Wrapping me like a small child in desperate need of reassurance  I feel coddled by the song of cicadas and the distance bark of dogs The sounds of the train rumbling in the distance that beats the tracks like my heart in my chest It brings along with it the dull ache in my chest Echoes not of just one But many come and gone I see you in the distant flashes of the heat lightning that strikes on the horizon  Silent Bold And so captivating I want to reach out and grab hold of it Intertwining my fingers with the tendrils of clouds I can barely make out each time the light flashes out Deeply desiring to feel the same strike in my own heart again I feel it starting to itch again That deep sense of longing Of needing Something to make my still heart beat Something to make my sluggish mind race I miss the comfort The deep feeling of being loved for more than the sum of parts that I am so quickly thrown toget...

How odd is it, to be haunted by someone who is still alive. How odd it is, even more so, to be haunted by versions of myself, whom of which some days, does not feel like to even still be alive. I reach, sometimes, to check my own pulse in some type of repetitive ritual in order to ensure that my heart, in fact still beats, even if it is without cause. I ponder purpose, quite frequently in my own musings and downward spirals, yet an epiphany of purpose has yet to strike.  Time passes yet somedays I feel like I remain rooted in place. Watching people pass by on their way to the next phase of their lives.  I'm so focused in on it that I feel like I miss my own growth that seemingly happens so slowly, it is hardly noticeable to the naked eye.  What is it, the force that causes the hands of time to march forward each hour, minute, second? What gives it the strength to move even while I can hardly find it in myself to tick on? Why watch when my own hands seem to just shake inst...

 Where am I now? A cross road of the multiple past versions of myself watching me from behind, the plethora of possibilities watching me from the front, every which way there are eyes tracking each step forward I take with a bated breath, unsure whether or not they should call after me or coax me forward, unsure of which way I should wander or run full speed towards, not to wander off and be lost, or run forward with the passion of lovers again reunited, where am I now? Within the realm of every possibility that really could take me every which way. Which way am I supposed to go?  I ask myself that frequently. As I am finally at a point in which everything is directly within my reach.  Not for the fear of failure, but the curiosity of what is to come. I have been the fool to dance in the court of men The servant washing the feet of my fellow man I have been the woman in black called to carry off the dead from the lives of others The trusted therapist for those who have no...