I’m currently on a journey to refresh and clean out my blog. This one from February 14, 2018 was actually handwritten much early in my life. I went through my writing to find the actually date that this one was written but most are still packed away. I did find two copies of this in my google docs and both had two different dates, one was January 2018 and the other going way back to November 2016. I’m going to guess the original was close to the November 2016 date. Either way, as I compared the writers I could see I had already made a few changed before but I could already see so many it needed. I was excited to refresh this one! This writing isn’t a poem or a blog. It’s more of a rumbles and feeling and words that ended up on a pieces of paper one night after a bottle of wine in 2016. I rather LOVE it! HA! Enjoy it’s face lift!
An Undeclared Aching
I don’t know what this aching is? As if I am reaching into a fog. Searching for something that doesn’t exist. Looking for some apart of myself to complete the puzzle. I’m homesick for a place that has never existed but yet, I know this place well and it comforts me. It’s my security and I seek it. It’s familiar to me somehow and I ache to create it for myself. It’s healing.
So complicated, confused, misunderstood, an unnoticed wanderer. You might assume you know who I am. Ask how I’m doing every now and then, think you’re doing your part. You won’t get to know me that way. Stay in your world and I’ll wait over here. I am simple and quite but my words spark something in you, they’re quick and sharp. You can’t help but find a way to read them. I’m able to cause a storm in you and sleepless nights in myself.
Closing my eye to you now and opening them to myself. I’m the sunlight in the morning and the cool, stillness of middle of night. I am the one sitting in the corner at the party full of people. I’m tears in my closet, a dream hunter, a child of God who is forgiven, a stranger to this planet, a writer; who’s looking for lost words, a scared mom, a lonely wife, a desperate friend.
There’s a countless number of things that I am…and none could be labeled by you. I am more than I even I could fathuma. To some I am as invisible as the air but just as necessary. I have the ability to accomplish more than I try too. But the years have made me weary, my bones hurt, my heart is tired and my eyes burn from all the years of mourning. Fear is never far and lingers at my door. How can I be so strong and weak all at once?
Absorbing everyone’s feelings like an empathic sponge. Their moods, happy, sad, frustrated, annoyed. I become it all with them. I may be joy then without notice, I may be rain. The people in my world change my world and have the ability to calm the storm inside me or make it rage on like you have never seen. The world has a strong effect on me weather I want it to or not. All I want to have is peace. The world does not want peace.
People are fickle. Loyalties changing so frequently , they have become children’s fairy tales. Trust isn’t real to me anymore, it’s painful and heartbreaking. Is it safer for me to hide inside? Just stay away and pretend I’m all alone? What will it be like to see the sunlight after being here with my eyes closed for so long? The stinging in my eyes for the first time is the pain I that need. I know what the world has for me and it isn’t the sweet breezy watercolors that I wish for. Can I stand strong long enough to wait this out? Will I have the ability to hold strong? This time when I open my hands up, extended my fingers and reaching out to the sun, will I be welcomed?
It’s the light small breath of Mother Nature that reassures me that I am not walking through the shadows of this place alone. I’m protected and welcomed. I’m loved and able to create, be saved and forgiven. I’m not missing out. They are. I’m okay.
I smell the sweetness of the trees, the lemongrass and the wind blows my hair across my face. I’m alive. Slowly, I move forward.