It is about the pain, isn’t it baby?
It’s about the strips of flesh we have taken from each other in the name of safety and trust.
Trying to maintain our squares of independence, our sense of self..
Rivers of fresh water need to run over the wounds and the cuts we have inflicted…
We need to heal….begin again in a different place…from a place of love…of pure wonderment.
I don’t know how to be me anymore. I lost myself in the pain, in the doubt, in the fear I’m not free…always in fear…my stomach hurts from fear.
To be me…where did I go?
The door closes everytime I get near you….more pain…more rejection and I lash out at you…such an insensitive prick when left alone in my pain, to my devices of torture.
Need rest, need peace, need you but not yet. Need me first. Need to stand and breath and love and ground myself. Fresh water runs down my face..I lift my hands to the sky…to
The universe…please guide me to where I need to be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem