Tears, Truth & The Start of My Life, My Way. {Poem}

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I long for this expression

This truth

This raw, peeled back one

The one I can barely type

As my hands shake

My jaw clamping down

To keep quiet.

Oh, all the many things I have done

To keep quiet. 

A life wearing a muzzle

Is not life.

It’s death

Certain death

It’s the twirling, immobilizing death of who we really are: 

Expression. 

Soul. 

Wildness. 

Fire. 

Gurgling water. 

Love. 

Muddy, gritty earth. 

Family. 

Human. 

Truth. 

And

We all deserve to express our truth, unedited, utterly unhinged…

And my truth

This truth

Is the eager one that makes me rise up

Even in a molten sea of tears

Even in my messy, broken pieces

And look this day straight in the eye

With my chin up

And not once tip-toe

And not once edit

And let me

Flow

Out of me. 

That is all I wish for. 

Not to be blocked by the black lava of pain and abuse that still taunts and torments me. 

But to be myself

Really. 

So I reach

I reach

I dig deep for my truth

I stutter, I tremble, I howl and cry out

And yet

Here

In this raw, ripped-open space

I am utterly free. 

My chest torn open

As a thousand butterflies release

My rebirth. 

My becoming. 

We can call it whatever we want

Because it’s entirely more than a rebirth or becoming

Those words make me mad

For they do not speak to the fiery depth of what this means to me

To meet all my broken pieces

And smile. 

And say

"Welcome home."

And sigh the sweetest sighs of relief like violins through pouring tears. 

"Welcome home."

Like the way soft notes on the piano can drive inside your skin. 

I am not completely free. 

But this is the start. 

The juicy beginning. 

The beginning of my life, my way, with my words, my voice

"Welcome home." 

As though whispered gently from the trees. 

And so it is, 

The start of my life.

My way. 

 

 

 

Photo: FLickr, https://flic.kr/p/czkL2S.