Instead . . .

This day has brought her many thoughts of many times she was many different people.

I wonder why she has chosen to settle into this one? And why as I say settle I feel the rebellious nature of her rise and deny having ‘become’ anything accept a great woman.

A tried and true ‘Liver’.

I take it in, all of it, in my own way. My way that is nothing real at the moment accept to just be.

Come to me in this sunlight you allow to exist with the vast amounts of you, you bring.

She will grapple with the idea of leaving a tremendous ache behind. In the grieving I will find myself.

Find my love of life again.

Looking for the pleasure in the glasses of ale has found you nothing but a thick depression. The pleasure of her is gone.

Yet she finds comfort in that. I find comfort in the tiredness they have settled into.

The grand love of living life. The life, which no matter how poetically you put it, is tormented with harsh realizations of our eternal connected loneliness.

 I was not supposed to be happy.

I was not supposed to become a writer, a musician, a great mother.

I was supposed to become nothing.

Instead . . .

I grow and I see others growing.

Always.

I know nothing of this God guy and I know nothing of the lack there of.

Backward is forward.

She sees magic.

I see growth born out of art, born out of creativity.

I see destruction born out of the same creative womb.

I have no answers.

I have no solutions.

I have moments.

I have stories.

I have emotions and colors to fling as I work through the dark, bright tinge of what life brings to me.

As I think, I change my reality.

Taking on different words of me.

Different outlooks for this time on this earth. I am free, always to change my reality of me.

I care not what you think of me. I have no control over your reality.

Even when I think I do, you can only see me how you see you.

I know how I see me in all things therefore any hate is me hating what I see. What I am. What I fear. What I give energy to.

Now she gives energy to travel.

 I need and ask for travel.

 Big and little travel.

 Pictures and different thicknesses of oxygen.

 “Give me stars and tears!” she cries.

No one will be able to take in how I will heal. I now know I am the warrior

I seek.

She will come and she will glide around and she will worry and I will take in the stars, alone.

 In depth I will take them in, alone . . . alone is good. . . alone is preferred. . . alone is a given. . .

 As I go back to the land I was born on, the land I was raped on, the land many have cried and died on .

The summer brings the West and I alone will grieve and heal .

 Give us growth.