I’ve spent hours walking through the woods between bough and bramble..I feed on oaks in the netted forest. The sun hushed sky lighting my way. I make up rhymes straight from my chaotic head. Finding reflections in nature’s movement on a gentle October day.
I ghost dance with a song of myself. Bridging the unbridgeable. My body haunted by the hum of yesteryears and
things left undone. Wishing I got over things as easy as some. Yet, I’m obligated to feel every missteps and my wrong opinions of my battered soul. Always the first to stick myself with pins,
even though I’ve been blessed with unconditional love and acceptance. I’m still afraid of never being enough, of feeling
alone, of being forgotten. Scared of not being able to discern
genuine affection from inauthentic affected entanglement. Why am I still so naïve? Why do I trust too much?
As I walk…
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