To come upon strangers
speaking soultongue
is never extraordinary
to answer them is
we’ve all a thread of identity
in the strangest places
but soulspeakers
pull
A new poetry group on Facebook. https://m.facebook.com/groups/672789156601867?group_view_referrer=profile_browser
strings converge
cross
tangle
i see the pattern
connection after connection
vans park outside
cigarette burns burn anew
the TV is talking about me
every channel
every line
they notice my messy house
engage in my favorite activities
dance with and torment me
i make notes copious and brazen
i hide bits with Susan
bits with Jill
you’re not well
their replies
I’m awake
I’m awake
and upon sleeping again
the journals become those of some foreign hand
restless writing and hiccuped language
graphs and charts of imagination
once
so
clear
muddled
the bug in the fan
no longer needing a sane smile
no longer needing to deceive the ceiling fan
I’m asleep
asleep
both dreading and dress rehearsing
for awakening again
Then Other nights
shed skin isn’t enough
l want the wild on my own flesh
the panting pushing my own blood
i want wind and expert explosions from Cai Guo-Qiang
i want words without saying a damn thing
just in my breathing
in my wholeness
to
When I was healthier, pre-illness, I trusted my body to do what I asked. I hiked my gear in and out with my trusty dog Mr.B. I worked out. I volunteered. I never accepted help- which drove my husband crazy. I was fit strong. Then whack. ME hit hard.
Next 5 years in bed. Couldn’t think straight, focus, get downstairs. Shortly, it was hell. I found the right med combination for me and the last year I’ve been slowly getting my life back. As in grocery shopping. As in spending time with friends. Little things I overlooked when I was running around conquering life. This is not what I look like today. 5 years in bed was rough on me. But I walked through hell for over 8 years and got my smile back. I see this picture which used to bring me despair- and now see hope. Hope for a life back in nature, back in the world, back on my feet hiking in my gear. But today is not this day. It may be again because exists the opportunity to grow– and for that I am eternally grateful. Right now I love what tomorrow will be, I love writing as always, I love second chances and I believe in all of them with all my heart.
— my original WordPress site from way back when I was healthier. It’s tai chi heavy and I hope to be able to revive it again. Have a peek just for fun.
Runningthunderhands.wordpress.com
Or search for “runningthunderhands” in the search box under sites. High fives and fist bumps.
The problem of extracting your life from another’s
Is they don’t care the reason
Suicidal
Chronic illness
Depression with a plan
Schizophrenia
They see closing doors as an upfront to them
How dare you do this to me
Not the rubber casing you’ve responsibly put around them
How dare you not trust them- believe they could take it?
How could I when this alone has upset you.
This alone may happen ten times in three years
Radio silence
Or a behind the counter tantrum
Shuttered away from prying eyes
And if it slips out oh now
The unacceptance is personal
You’re a pain-giver now
A pain-giver always must shut his doors
And warn away stray thoughts of tenderness
A pain-giver must always carry his grief in case the shut out have need of its bottled bitters
Have need to shout
Everyone knows once they get in, they just want back out
Cracked upon a hair, full open, closed fast
You’re in here by yourself
AbyKittiwake 