When all I seem to want is to cry

And disappear into the fold. A well meaning hound stares straight at me and these words, as my body seems to be confounded into itself. Over and over and over again. I have been enduring for a few days now. Weeks, lifetimes, years. I have been going forth. Trying to stay afloat as I actively preach on how I’ve been going down to swim at the bottom where life is pressurized yet very clear. Under all the pressure it gets really clear what is important. What matters, what it is that I truly want. Yet yet yet, is there any way out of this? Is there anyway through? I feel supported, I feel held, I feel surrounded by hearts of good kind souls in the bodies of stripped cat and big black dog. I have words to write, I have things to share, there are tears that fall and so too do I. I fall and I fall and I fall downward and I had a plan yet now it’s all gone to mush and I don’t know what to do or where to go. It feels like I reach out my hands to grab anything; a root or a branch or some dirt. Something that will help me to get through it for it’s all so unknown, and in truth, I feel afraid. Though those words feel like bile on my tongue for I never wish to fall into that well of despair again. 

I’ve been underneath piles and piles of rocks. Awakening into heaviness.

Alone, alone, alone, I have seemed to always do it alone, and now I wish to be ready to not. To be open and clear and true and to receive the support it is that I know it is that I need. I have done it alone for so long, and I am fine in this, tears open up space. Wet and sleek like the bright trails of snails and slugs. They provide an outlet, a track to run along. Over and over around and through the same maze. I beg and I pray for mercy, for consciousness for awareness, there’s no time to live in the dark, there’s no time to live underneath the curtains and veils of illusions, of times gone by, of the past. Of things that are not yet created. 

My tears create portals, doorways, passageways into more of me. I held back, held back, held back into myself. Buried my face in the fabric of someone that I don’t know, I screamed out in fear, afraid of something that I did, for what is it that I’ve done? I could pick up the hatchet, I could simply carry on, or I could keep going, allowing what’s necessary to surface. 

I smell peonies on the air and holy mother of god it sounds so immense. The blubbering beauty, the unrestrained joy. The saving grace of a message never sent. If it’s meant to be, it will be, it always comes back to me.

So, now, instead, I sit here again. Alone in the spaciousness. The silence. And I weep. I weep and I weep and I weep. And I know that no one is coming to save me and that the only way out is through and I know that underneath it all my heart yearns and begs and screams out for you. Because no one else knows me, sees me, understands me like you do and so I commit. To me, to rising, to meeting my dreams, to living my destiny. I commit to living a life full, present and grounded and grand. I commit to just being, here, in it. Amongst it, with it. I commit to living that light, to being brave and strong and well. To providing for my friends and loved ones and family. To seeing and feeling and witnessing beauty in it all, to not sacrificing but rather embracing. The moment, the present, this gift, the pain. Knowing that it’s blessing, it’s an opportunity, it’s what gives to us everything it is that we never knew we needed.