I’m rhythmic and I’m soulful,
though locked up and concealed;
a catalogue of 4am musings
trapped within this energy field.
My body in slow motion;
self care no longer just choice,
as my mind and body gradually heal
the vessel from heart to voice.
I’ve been met with misunderstanding
and even dubbed insane;
Forcing me to pull the trigger
of my deepest fear and pain.
See the pain of judgement isn’t so,
but the fear of it itself,
as it cripples and it stifles
and it compromises health.
Nibbling on the hawthorn berry
won’t heal this vein alone.
I’m a wild creature needing a voice
and a vessel that needs to flow.
See nobody even knows me,
and why would that be?
A perpetual fear of perception
greater than fear of losing me?
The safe path is a no through road,
so in darkness I must fight,
as I hear the whispering of healing voice,
as it directs me toward my light.

As my body tumbled into darkness,
I surrendered beneath the Summer sun;
nourishing on the abundance of green,
feeding energy where there was none.

Then came Autumn’s richness
berries – purple and crimson red;
detoxifying bodily debris,
like the trees with the leaves they shed.

My gut craved the death of winter
broths of bulbous roots and bone,
and the tang of crops fermented in time,
as dead leaves became soil to sow.

My body now nourished like the earth
I rest anticipating spring;
With hope to emerge with the greenest of shoots,
so with homeward birds I can sing.