The Taste of Peace

It’s the empty bliss between heartbreaks.

The second your clinging fingers let it slip

over the cliff and in your lightened grasp

colour floods back to your hand,

red rivulets rushing to warm

your desperate flesh.

It’s the golden pulse around you

when at last you reach the surface

and seize your first grasp of air.

Where straining ceases,

the casement flies open

and all that’s ever been floods in

– more than you could ever dream –

till the tears run

at the kaleidoscopic freedom

that was waiting all along.


Day 24: As the Walls Come Down

I’m trapped in a room

because I wanted to be somewhere else,

to be anywhere but here,

and I’m punished for thinking it could be that easy.

The cage came down,

the walls began to crumble,

because I wished it be different.

I’ve only brought more pain.

I crawl, struggle, and steal

to get out of there,

out of the present,

out of the longing for things

to be anything other than what they are.

I pry open the door, leaving blood on my fingers.


Outside, dazed and shaken,

I reach out for comfort,

and find only disdain.

I’ve become desperate,

a weeping child, begging

for someone else to release

the monsters inside me.


Inside, I haven’t left,

the room still holds me prisoner.

A flash of white light

and there I am again,

back in the mess, the cage, the fear.

I breathe, try to accept my uncertain fate.


Perhaps the room does not punish,

but I punish myself,

in my longing and loneliness.

Maybe I am not trapped,

just fighting to live

in a place that doesn’t exist.

Can I trust this room

holds all that I need?

Can I look down and realize?

despite the cold and the chaos and the rubble,

that I’m fine.

Day 11: Beyond Imagining

I’ve never been particularly comfortable around crowds. Especially as a teenager, at dances or house parties, I was overwhelmingly self-conscious, often ready to gnaw my own arm off if it would mean I could be home in my pajamas curled up with a book.

But there are a handful of¬†instances – a house party when I was 17, my first time at a club in years, traveling alone to a place I’d never been – the entire time I was filled with¬†a feeling like a big brother’s hand on my shoulder. I was nervous, way out of my comfort zone, but then I breathed deeply. And a glow swelled in my chest. Inexplicably, I knew I was fine. Everything would be okay. In the untraceable beat between inhale and exhale, I aligned with a sense of strength and guidance. For a moment I aligned with everything.

Underneath the stress about money, not having enough friends or ambition or success, not being pretty or smart or brave enough, hidden in my breath and sometimes the silence of 6 am, I know I’m okay. Someone has my back, and is guarding the most sacred part of me. I am loved beyond imagining. Continue reading “Day 11: Beyond Imagining”