Tuesday, September 15, 2015

{ perspective change } - yogi. lover. mama. believer. austin, tx.

From a balcony where I sat I watched you.
You were a speck in the ocean, jumping waves and enjoying freedom.
I knew you from the distance because I'd always known you from the distance.
Nothing has changed.
I know you from far away, your energy pushes mine and I fall.
You're still jumping into the waves and you're still free.
I hold you in high regard, even when you've made me insignificant.
Somehow tonight I'm on a balcony and I know you're a speck that should search for me.
I'm here with a spotlight, I've made it so easy, so clear.
Those damn waves you love to jump into, they pull and you crave it.
I tried to be in them with you but you want them alone.
The ocean to yourself.
I walk up the beach and look to the sky.
The white clouds against her blue heart reassure me.
My shoulders are warm and bronze.
I can smell salt, sweetness, and amber.
The sand is gritty between my toes.
This chin of mine held high.
Invisible wings keep me upright.
Each step I push the ground behind me to go forward.
I'm a moving beacon.
I'll be easy to find and hard to reach at this pace.

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

{ what year is this } - yogi. mama. writer. lover. austin, tx

That time. Your porch.
Storms all day.
White shirts. No words.
No regrets.

Yellow flowers. Sandwiches.
Never let me go.
Thunder. A breeze and blanket.
I'm lost.

Because the knot in my throat is so big I can't breathe.
The sting swelling in my nose and eyes from the rush of tears about to spill.
I'm an avalanche and the painful words broke loose the weight I've kept at bay.
There's too much pressure, I issued warning that I was dangerous, that I'm not okay.
You can't yell or push someone like me, this wave will not be stopped.
I'm sorry for what I can't tame, control, or explain.
I offer no apologies for my honesty.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

{ grow up } - yogi. daughter. mama. survivor. austin, tx

I went to sleep last night in a pile of fear and bedsheets.
Before that...
I clutched my body pillow.
The short, synthetic fur soft against my legs.
The well loved stuffing inside crushed under my embrace.
It was too warm to have so much weight, but my cocoon was essential.
The folds of cotton around me held me the way I wanted my mother to as a small child.
My pillow held my head like a soft lap I could trust.
Laying in bed I told myself all the ways to heal.
I coached myself on how to breathe and recite mantra.
Recounted my truth, claimed abundance, and thanked god for support.
Anxiety did not leave me, but my body found peace to relax.
It felt tight when it crawled up my body and into my head.
I wanted to run away, toss my head back, close my eyes, and be finished.
I pressed my palm to my heart and said aloud "you're still needed and everything is fine, breathe."
Worry soaked up the tears from my eyes, took the blush from my cheeks, and put a white hair at my temple.
I was done giving so much to these self sabotaging thoughts.
I drew in breath and heaved out terror.
My muscles became too heavy to hold onto my bones and my weight intensified so that I sank deep into my worn mattress.
If the world consumed me, I'd go down breathing and clawing.

Today I woke up determined to find myself, my strength, my honesty, and my angels.