Happy First Day of Spring! I spent the past two days ushering in the change of seasons by doing some yoga and watering my garden and crocheting and eating and fixing up my studio and yes, doing a little writing, just a little, but some and that’s enough, right?
My poetry seems to always touch on the raw and rarefied emotions experienced by all people. The sadness, the hurt, the complex anger and fear that society demands of us to tap down and hide away. Push away, push away, little girl. Play nice and look nice. Well, I refuse to do that. Push away? No. Expose it. Pick and peel away until the wound is out in the open and if one is lucky enough, get a blast of cool air to dry it up and scab over and remain a scar,a final badge of the survivor’s fortitude and belief.
In my attempt to heal and get “through”, not “over” the trauma of my younger self’s lfe, because it’s ridiculous, ignorant, and insensitive to ask anyone to get over a life experience that scarred them and changed them forever. Please remember that. Yet asking someone or yourself to get “through” it and make peace with it and sit with whatever “it” is, that’s something we can all work on.
Spring Equinox signals a new beginning. A washing away of the grey and dissappointing winter. Wash away, wash away, wash away the judgements and unacceptance of the grime that the world sometimes shakes onto us. Wash away, but what if it doesn’t want to wash away. Stubborn damn dirt.
It’s okay. This dust. This grime. The not so perfect matchy-match kind of life’s residue. Let the dust of a life well lived settle and breathe it in and sit awhile with it. You just may discover a new friend, a soul mate, a companion, a reality that yes, you can live with.
Out of a weekend, sitting with my own inner grime, this sprouted: