Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Silent

I thought this would heal and whole me

But cracked me open instead

Unlike I had hoped

Exposed and left raw to myself

A view I didn’t want to see

There nonetheless

Turning inside

Rolling in the roiling

Up for air, down for breath

The sonorous drum still echoing deep

Silence… silent please

Floating still, and quiet, and watching the turbid clear

Not so frightened

Beginning to see

2 comments:

  1. I had a very interesting experience as I read this. With each subsequent line I wanted my eyes and self to scramble up to the one above since I could feel the tempest building and wanted to escape it. Even though the line above was not a picnic in any way I had lived through it and knew I could survive it.

    That is where I am. That is where many are. Fear to commit to the internal process since we know that it may get worse before it gets better. We remain stagnate at a locus that offers no joy or serenity.

    When you wrote "watching the turbid clear", I heard/saw water dripping off of stalactites and falling into deep blue pools.

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