Untangling The Web

   It is nearly 4:00 am; I still can’t sleep. I decided to fill the tub, and crank up the jets. The pain of bones, and body… Its getting to me tonight. And my mind, it has not stopped processing, since returning home from Flint.

   Mind, it plays over moments, conversations, actions of self, others,… Oh what a tangled web we can weave. And winters cauldron, commences to stirring. Let it unravel, splinters, shards, blessings, betrayals… Fall where you may. One doesn’t have to like truth, but still, must embrace. Pristine the fact- truth, the necessity of survival.

   Fact is, friendship, is a far more weighty thing, than knowing of, or having known of someone. To bind in relationship with one, as friend, is committing to add them to your priorities, should need arise. Offering a modicum of thought, or concern to their travails, or success. And to know what meanings these things hold, for your friend. You are not just acquaintance; caring, perhaps, for curiosities sake, manipulative gains…? These things do not encompass the bonding of friend. Friendship holds level, of closeness with depth, but only one bond is that of friend.

   Thinking back over the months; I find it all so interesting. Looking in, now the static observer. And seeing deeply, what consciously, mind let fall to the side in its focusing. Every picturing tells a story. And spirit speaks to me. Oftentimes, looking back, one can see more clearly. Hence the adage. Hindsight is 20/20. And I, type, type, typing in the present moment, laugh. Looking through bifocals, to make clear each word. Yes, looking back, one sees many things.

   and spirit speaks to me…

   No. I cannot allow ego this moment of indulgence. Gratify self, feeling its reward. At expense to all that is other? That is not love. Love honors the spirit that is, and is in ALL living beings. I see- what was. And now, I see what is. It won´t change a thing, nor me. I will speak of, nor to anyone, differently. For that is not of love. That is not me. I WILL be the change, the intent of my being. Learn the lessons in the pain. Grow by those lessons. Give the lessons away. And when a moment meets me, again on this journey, (circles go round that way,) I´ll know a thing, or word, the way. Being in situations reminiscent, again, the change. Circles do go round that way.

Everything, if one looks, deeply, IS connected…

   and spirit spoke to me.

Re-Learning Home

Thoughts

unsettled

twisting. Up

against the wall.

After,

the storm.

Welcomed escape.

Momentarily sheltering,

this fog.

Heavy as hell.

Knowing.

For peace sake-

I swallow words,

so many

many words.

Crammed full.

For need

aching bottomless.

Must re-learn.

Home.

Walking through,

emotions

seeking familiar.

Motions, 

of another time.

Squeeze myself

down.

The significantly less

version,  myself

struggle without

Comfort, now

I remember.

Home.

 

cc Elyse Bontrager  

 

 

Clouds Rolling In

Wolves Den Crew
The way it was…
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The way it is…
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One more sacred fire, out.

 

“CLOUDS ROLLING IN”

The storm is on the horizon…

I feel the clouds rolling in,

the wind whispers,

the chill bares down,

slowly.

And I,

lost in the fog of disillusion.

Alone.

Not wanting to believe

knowing more than I wanted to know…

Surrounded by good intentions,

in this place I call home.

And the clouds come rolling in,

again.

 

Falling to my knees,

words mixed with tears

answered in silence.

Direction remains unclear.

Way to turn,

who to give trust,

where to stake down

Getting harder-

this stand…

Enemy

on all sides,

even among those I called friend.

And the clouds come rolling in,

again…

 

Day’s shortened now…

level of pain grows,

with the chill felt in these bones…

On my knees,

listening

for clarity

in the storm

Darkness is a presence,

an entity…

so tired of this perennial battleground,

and the clouds

rolling….

rolling…

always rolling in,

again.

Is there no saving

a daughter lost…

lost in a cloudy fog?

 

not – a – sound

 

and I,

blinded-

at every turn

overcome,

clouds surround,

inevitable this

spiral of descent…

once more,

comes the down,

predictable

seasonal brokenness

of me-

Lost

to cloud-cover…

 

-eab