I am fueled by storms and coastal wind as I raise my arms to each and channel them until empowerment rises boldly from within…
But it is in the still and minute, in the soft scent of beautiful, in the trust of subtle, the barely discernible, that I feel the forgotten soothed, those buried-alive non-truths; the golden elixir single ray finding the torn petal coats in those places I am not able to ever reach on my own.
Up close and personal is the only way I know to heal my heart, to feed my soul, and that, I believe, is the path that leads home.
Across the street from the ocean, I reside, at my everyday disposal are the almighty tides, the aquahorizon with no opposite end that blends with the sky, no greater reminder of the bigger picture beyond this life, and it does indeed soul-energize, but I’ve always known the humility of how insignificant we are: I seek instead the intimate inner warmth I find crouched among the non-garden flowers inspecting the finest details neglected and trodden, and through my lens and art, I depict how they feed my heart, shared roots and seeds organically free yet universally tied, turning our faces peacefully to the shared light, the Higher Power who sculpted us both, all, with intention and without society-judged flaws, precision in individuality, every living piece lovingly kneaded, and when the rays find and kiss petals, this is the beauty that stills me breathless, to see in crafted detail the miracles of His Creation and how love was meant to prevail in every season.
If I have to have walls, give me windows big and bright where shadows can dance for hours with the light, windows that open wide to invite the breezes inside. In all mental-health seasons, I so easily slip away for days, lose myself in those sunny sills and rainy panes, faraway thoughts that need not be sorted nor restrained; even my muses need a holiday. The spaces inside my dwelling fade in comparison to the glass and screens I need for my soul to not suffocate. If I have to have walls, give me windows through which to endlessly escape.
I must part ways with you now, dear Darkness; Light is forlorn without its Laura,
my aura is dimming the further I drift in this alluring cradling away from attempts
of putting forth the efforts to swim back up toward Bliss:
I still hope, believe (barely), that it exists.
A parting kiss…
Yes, I know that means I will have to let go, for now, of that dream, but I can keep the parts that were seeded, for weeds they are not; I feel it, in that new spot, how I can nurture it into something beautiful still…
I will.
I return to the isle from a distance, leave a trinket, so it is known I’ll always be near,
Fear resides on both sides, in the direct sun and in the borderless shadows; the light, however, competes with mine, so my soul still remains largely unexposed.
I unzip my skin behind the bushes and dip into the sea of all that I am and all that I have yet to be,
a flame underwater, inextinguishable, no longer chained to the illusion of drowning; I dive deeper in belief of my self and arise, wet and glowing.
In my new skin, a more comfortable fit, I swirl together the sun and shadows as I dance, and the flickering upon my upturned face reveals another transformation taking place within.
a work in progress perhaps no one should be for to simply be oneself should happen effortlessly it would seem
it’s work for me though to attempt to undo the disease seeds enemy-planted deep that choke the bloom
contaminating the roots robbing nutrients always pulling at upward movement
i grow my colors lift my face to the sun drink the falling waters offer pollen to everyone
yet i keep coming undone keep feeling invisible tugs
so i work to break free from that which i cannot see that has this grip on me
and little by little with each sinless absolution i sense each time another parasitical root is loosened
directly by my higher power and the words sinking in from finally believing my true-lover
feeling lighter is the way to the self i have begun to realize
to remove the shackles of the world and psyche to return the soul to the sky
Hilltop
It’s true, I’m blooming. I hope you can see: I am blossoming because your love has been seeded in me, and upward is the only direction I can go when these internal whispers of yours hush the world so ours are the only voices I hear when the storms return raging from those traumatic years. Time need not be turned back: unraveling these knots of old patterns, we’re perfecting with practice. I will do more than hold on for with your patience, I am remembering more quickly that this is the present, and I am nestled safely in the nearness of you upon the hillside with the endless view of anywhere I wish to go whilst bringing with me my found, forever home.
Rough week. Double red flags waving. The bay wilder than the ocean. It called me home. Here’s to the ones in the throes of it. Let’s relight ourselves. Again.
I give my light freely, but sometimes it is taken, emotional perpetrators breaching my innermost spaces.
They underestimated my strength and did again today,
for as long as there is the sea and my God, I will raise my arms in faith; you will never keep me down as long as there are waves and rays.
Overcasting the heart, the plagued cloud drew color and life; eruption ensued, torn from the burst deep inside. The salt rained on the open wounds. The gray swooped in, attempted final ruin.
But a survivor returned from his own near entombment, kissed petal lips to restore the hues,
and love rushed in again to ignite the blooms, imbued with goodness the only truth.
The excess overflowed, flooded the world, infused each connecting branch, bled the colors to combat all hopelessness.
The gray cloud retreated. Only depression was depleted.
Beloved, let us love one another, because love is of God; everyone who loves is begotten by God and knows God. Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love. (1 John 4:7-8)
Laura Denise 