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Signed in as:
filler@godaddy.com
Writing from the heart is cathartic, may my words (experience) be of benefit. And if you've held to silence, might I inspire your story be told, we are all in this together and through our stories we see we are not alone.
It's your turn to fall down
A well of personal hell
A black hole despair
Like the mole burrows
Underground to the upside down,
Rationale gone
Mental treason
Do you see the reason?
Through seasons of emoting
Look to who you are doting
Vote for yourself instead
Dig, scurry, dirt blurred sight
Fight, fight, hold tight
A right to
Liberate
Tunnel narrows
Snarled leaves
Retrieve belief that the light exists
For you to breathe
Life upright
Out from the undertow below
Tall proud
Sin warmed olive skin
Worn undressed come undone
Spun from the song unsung
Clung to depressive depths slung
Stuck to the tip of my tongue
Sucked back, sucker punch drunk
Hung over, slumped
Another ten rounds on the ropes
A dope.
With faith the light will return, any fight in the darkest moments leads to victory.
*Published on Elephant Journal Magazine
*Published on Elephant Journal Magazine
I have zero interest to “Namaslay.” I seek inner peace and flexibility. The beautiful thing about a well-balanced practice and living yoga is that it will purify and regulate all systems of the body and organically keep you at a healthy weight.
In a culture where it is common for the majority of the population to value an outward appearance over an inward feeling of harmony, students either love my class or hate it.
When he looked up and locked eyes with me, I saw a blip of relief wash over his tall frame, his jeans barely slung on his withered waist. Then, in the next moment, as he took a fast, short breath, his broken heart palpitating, his hands trembling, he stepped toward my outstretched arm inviting him in for a hug.
I couldn’t let him leave without saying goodbye.
There were brief moments, between harmful ordeals, where I could be fully present to ingest the wonder of secret places to gather. Like the train tracks behind the tennis courts of the middle school where we would chug stolen wine coolers. Or walk deep in the woods wielding party balls of beer, or a keg for a pickup hockey game on a hidden frozen pond of the wetlands. Those were the few times I sort of remember consciously breathing with life, having reckless fun, and being young and dumb.
I know somewhere deep down under her eczema-covered skin, she knows she chose me for good reason—my guidance may fall on deaf ears, but I believe the messages are getting through and will surface one day. My rational mind tells me her willingness to share and openly communicate with me is a sign she is doing well, but the despair and sadness she speaks of makes me worry we won’t get through the next dark time she feels unworthy.
An embedded member of my pack, forever bound with respect. It doesn’t matter if we encounter a known neighborhood dog or a dog of a dear friend, her kind demeanor takes a back seat to a nasty beast who is quick to bare her teeth. Her ferociousness alarms everyone and is worse while on the leash. I think she is reacting out of her conditioning, feeling insecure, or needing to show her fierce protection of me, proving her loyalty.
Running along a wall of flora
the side of the block without houses.
A green boundary of safety
baring an early summer bounty.
An alluring aroma
with dainty flowers.
Pleasing our sight,
tickling noses in delight.
Through my own transformative journey I lead the way for others to find alignment to their path using ancient healing methods. Together we rise to find liberation from our pasts and create a life we previously had only dreamed of. We have to feel to heal and freedom awaits on the other side. I am your humble guide.