My Heart

This piece was a project I did on Instagram a while back…it’s a series of poems built off of one poem. I shared one poem a day for 2 weeks and once it was done I felt as if I had somehow changed. For me poetry comes from a place you don’t even know exists until it hits the page. I hope that as you read them, you feel as much as I did writing them.

Dionne

 

SoulSoul (2)

It is you

It has always been you.

Here,

Guiding passively,

Leading with me,

Following willingly,

Cheering Loudly,

Caring deeply,

Reminding dutifully,

Pushing gently,

Growing strongly,

Loving always,

I cherish all that you are,

All that we are…all that I am

 

Silencing BerthaEmpowered (2)

Start

Your power is here, you are here, lying dormant, waiting, wanting, needing.

Start

You are skilled, masterful, capable, daring.

Start

In the dark, feel the fear, huge, expansive, deflatable.

Start

Your voice will find you, carry you, hold you in place.

Start

Figure it out along the way, trust your Self

 

StillStill (2)

still fearful,

still not ready,

still worried,

still overwhelmed.

but

still as a lioness,

still waiting,

still willing,

still wanting.

thoughts are still

heart is still,

hands are still.

ready?

always, still.

 

UnsureUnsure (2)

tired, sick.

I am heavy with insecurity,

laden with fear,

wet, drenched in negativity.

wanting desperately for respite.

is that a break you’re trying to cut me?

your sympathy is sickening.

I need to be here.

I ache all over,

pushing,

beating,

breaking,

changed forever,

thankfully.

 

MindMindful (2)

yourself,

the curb,

the art,

your head.

Lost your mind.

Mind the gap.

Quiet your mind to

change your mind.

I have a good mind to

miss my mind the most.

I feed my mind while I

bear in mind to have an

open mind.

Mind over matter (what does matter?)

Mindset echoing

through my mind,

haunting my mind.

Not mind less,

Mind full.

 

I am in the linesMessy (2)

clean, clear,

efficient.

no, yes, no.

I belong,

feel safe, comfortable.

no, yes, no.

I turn my head

to see who is watching.

4 little eyes gaze upon my actions.

yes, no, yes.

hope, fear,

anticipation.

can I try too?

do you like my picture?

it’s a little bit messy…

pride, tears,

awesome!

out of the lines,

messy, random,

heartfelt.

yes, yes, yes.

 

I long for work that is not work.Work (2)

Work that I am

sated by,

exhausted from,

euphoric after,

elated in, and

eager for.

I want work that is,

dirty,

tireless,

constant,

heavy,

repetitive,

hard,

creative and

innovative.

Work that is not work.

Work done by

a need,

a feeling,

a desire.

Work filled with

hope,

joy and

exhilaration.

Work that

will not need to be retired from, and

who’s by-product is rejuvenation.

Work that

fills the void created from

all the work that feels like work.

I long for work that is not work.

 

What changes?Changes (2)

Seasons,

minds,

landscapes,

underwear,

the wind,

my reflection.

Reflection,

true reflection,

not the drain circling act of self-pity,

changes me,

my past,

my future.

Reflection changes

everything and nothing,

so that I can breathe.

Changes is good,

inevitable,

warranted.

What changes?

Nothing,

but perspective.

 

My fear is not, Fear (2)

wobbly knees,

dilated pupils,

sweaty pals, or

stuttered speech.

I feel fear as

sledgehammers to my temples,

stabs to my occipital orbit,

baseballs bats to my shoulders and

lungs filling with poison.

My fear looks like

empty bottles of ibuprofen and

vodka.

My fear sounds to you like

confidence,

arrogance,

over the top opinions and

bitchyness.

I sounds to my children like

screaming and

apologizing.

It sounds to me like

someone else.

But…

My fear slows,

backs off and

takes its foot off my jugular

when I,

do the work,

put in the effort,

sleep,

love and

hydrate my soul.

I am not fearless

I choose not to fear fear.

 

Every self-discoveryBecoming (2)

leads me to a new place

I’ve always known.

Each blissful and exhilarating full body reaction I have,

to uncovering the mysteries

as old as humanity,

feel achingly fresh and new.

Uncovering,

releasing,

revealing,

unraveling,

relieving

all that I never knew

I was,

I am.

I am

bold,

believing,

unearthed,

raw,

soul,

becoming all that

I have always been.

 

Learning,Joyful (2)

when that thing happens.

The thing, the moment

that touches the very essence of me,

I am energized.

Catapulted beyond my own skin;

each electron

of every atom,

in every cell,

can barely hold themselves in orbit.

Each part of me,

mind, body and soul,

is consumed by

force,

bliss,

power,

knowledge,

change.

Joy

Full.

 

Head tilted just slightly, IMG_0130 (2)

the rays of sun kissing my cheek,

my blanket wrapped tight,

head resting on my favourite pillow.

The kettle boils, roars,

focusing my thoughts.

I am weightless,

simply lungs breathing,

eyes seeing,

heart loving.

Buried in a three-foot blanket of its own,

the world outside dreams of something more.

Patient and calm,

we rest,

knowing that greatness and beauty can not be rushed.

All things happen as soon as they are able,

and no sooner.

Tea is ready,

my mind is at rest,

while my world begins to germinate under the cozy blanket of time.

 

I imagine it had been here long before I knew I lost it.Found

Free flowing,

effortless, it once moved through me

in ways only a child would understand.

Boundless,

defining.

I couldn’t know life without it.

As it left me I perished,

turned to dust.

Reborn hard,

built on a solid angular foundation.

I imagined what imagining would be like and there,

in the darkness of my mind,

I found

you.

 

After eight hours of submerging myself into art

other people’s problems,

I peer periodically over at my notebook.

I flip laundry,

make dinner,

chase love around the house,

and get lost in my everyday.

I feel momentary pangs of fear,

that builds up to almost full-blown panic…

Until that moment,

when all that is heard in the house

are the shallow breaths of my two littles;

along with the unmistakable, almost deafening

pounding in my chest

as I put the pen in my hand.

Within minutes I am lost,

gone to that place where only art can breathe.

When I exhale the words onto the page,

the euphoria of having held my breath for hours

is exhilarating.