The winter-shorn
trees scratch calligraphy
against the sky and
I strain my eyes
to see what
truth lies there.
Straining my ears,
I listen to the
whispering leaves
and wait
breathless
for the words
they speak.
My heart
yearns… longs
to know their
secrets… to feel
their comfort.
To be swept away.
A brittle leaf on the
October wind.
Haunted by memories I grasp for you and quickly push you away.
I cannot stomach this closeness yet I desire your touch – crave it – NEED it…
Fear arises as the brush of your hand resurrects ghosts thought long exorcised…
My body trembles, haunted by the abuse that still lives in my skin and in my breast, beating like a second heart.
It is chaos here… shouts, whispers, whimpers, cries…
Locked in the asylum of my mind.
My favorite local kayaking place is Banks Lake in Lakeland, GA. The view is breathtaking and the weather was absolutely perfect today – it was clear and cool and windy. I’m already ready to go again.
I hate days like this… I feel twitchy after spending the last 2 days pulling weeds in my gardens and having bugs crawl all over me… I still feel like I’m going to have a panic attack. I know I should be used to this by now and I know bugs are no big deal, really, but I still cannot help the way I react. I try so hard to play it cool and to stay calm. I have these huge spiders in my flower beds and when you startle them they run toward you – not away from you. It freaks me out. Not to mention the beetles, ants and roaches that live in the taller weeds and thick grasses that I have to deal with. I hate this feeling… everything that touches me makes me flinch. I’m so jumpy. I think I will just sit calmly the rest of the day and sip tea and watch Netflix.
Taken summer 2013 in my front yard on my Passion Flower Vine
I realized today, not for the first time, that there are several things I do simply out of habit…out of long-standing routine. I shower in exactly the same way, dry off in the same pattern, wash dishes in the same order (cups & glasses first, then plates, then bowls, then pots & pans and finally serving and silver-ware)… I even open my cans of cream in the way I was taught by my mother when I was a kid – though it is not the most safe or expedient way to do so…(with a knife – which causes my husband some consternation… he’s always afraid I’ll cut myself; which I must admit is likely since I am terribly clumsy…) It’s funny all the little habits and routines we get into without considering their source or effectiveness. 
captivatingbitter 