Monthly Archives: June 2019

Heavy in His arms

Standard
Heavy in His arms

Surrounded by the ever present Spectre of death…

Mortality itself has haunted since the 11th year-

Family & friends dying like the Hemingways and Fondas having a competition…

Addictions and violence permeate a life… a society… a culture.

Supporting those you love,

Facing my own fears;

Tasked with aiding those in grief…

A lifetime of training?

They don’t tell you the right things to say…

Or even the wrong things to say.

“It will always come in waves… they just get further between…”

Weak tea for the knock kneed.

God

Life

Energy

Grief

Stages

Birth to death and all between;

Beautiful acceptance to righteous anger-

Fuck this mortal coil.

Oedipus

Standard
Oedipus

What a compounding thought-

Reflecting on my daddy issues;

My insane need for a father figure…

What I needed was a foundation-

“The all father”

A God:

for all intents and purposes-

An education on faith-

Grace-

Forgiveness-

Repentance AND reconciliation.

A basis for growth- a reason for service and understanding of trauma-

And finally- a present presence.

Ache

Standard
Ache

I’ve subdued my urges-

As often as I can…

Quieting the undesired parts of self.

But still… it’s not enough-

Now, inactions aren’t enough…

Words now forbidden-chastised-shamed-

Acutely.

What next?

Thoughts?

Always ok.

Standard
Always ok.

It’s not crazy-

To question all of your decisions-

While holding your knees and rocking…

At the bottom…

of a dark closet-

Simultaneously:

lamenting;

and experiencing déjà vu…

realizing the trauma root to your aesthetic preferences…

synthesizing information, emotions, perceptions, programming…

Understanding leads to despair and experience leads to scripted good guesses…

“Fear is the path to the dark side.”

Leaps of faith…

Crisis of confidence?

Hope being what’s left and hoping because there’s nothing left-

Love or fear, only two choices…

At the heart of it…

Still rocking…

Still rocking…

Still rocking…

Bottom of a dark closet.

Soundlessly chanting-

beneath the typhoon in my bedroom…

I’m ok.

I’m ok.

I’m ok.

I’m always ok.

it’s not crazy- it’s human, right?