Hear Me, Heal Me

I decided to post my entire poetry books here as a little exclusive for those who happen to find my profile. This is a poetry book exploring the healing of the inner child and the impact a wounded inner child has on every aspect of life. If you'd still like to support me, I'll link the Amazon link. Thank you for sharing space with me.

Unlearning

Let’s rewind the tape slowly.

You are sitting on your bedroom floor moonstone and quartz surrounding your radiant legs your eyes are closed but they are gleaming.

Now you are unfolding yourself walking backwards toward the white, wooden door.

You descend into a hallway warm feet on the cold hardwood floors you are entering a room with small windows and many people who are all wearing toothy smiles with bloodied hands extended out towards you they are all holding a piece of your heart in their deceitful hands.

Your luminescence starts to dim as you slowly tip toe backwards toward the glass-paneled French doors

silence climaxes as you reach the middle of the mildew infested room the darkness disorienting you causing you to spin in counterclockwise circles your body pirouettes

into the blackness.

You are dancing now.

You are a puppet on a string.

With every plié your knees get weaker until you topple back onto the wet carpet you are grasping the air as the current of the next room pulls you from behind.

The room on fire.

There is no door on these hinges and as you enter you are flung from corner to corner as the smoke rises overhead the flames begin to rise now too.

You clutch your chest with innocent, sweaty palms and desperately look around

for a refuge.

The flames ascend into the welcoming sky the cotton-candy door returns to its hinges you are tucked away safely in your rickety bed.

Let’s pause here.

Receive Me

I wrestled with the unbalance of my giving and your receiving my chalice held three drops of wine while yours overflowed.

The thought of your intoxicated tongue salivating for the small amount of my liquid made me sick.

Here. Take it.

And I waited for a return of sapphire or diamonds and nothing came.

You sat on the throne enjoying the tartness of greed

I started offering more extravagant gifts.

My left molar, the top layer of my skin my plasma in a purple pitcher.

As you took these things

I waited anticipated for something greater

in return.

Instead you gulped the plasma hung my tooth on a mantle and spread my skin out like a rug you said it matched the curtains.

Furiously

I stomped my feet in the dimly lit kitchen threatened the universe with a butcher knife.

How could you let them take, take, take and not give?

The pitter-patter of paws coming my way made my focus hazy and soon a furry blanket draped over my legs and covered me in saliva.

She gave me love without the expectation that I would ever

love her back and then I understood.

Mind Mender

I’ll fill your cracks with gold

I’ll mend you with iron.

Now, Back to Our Scheduled Program

She is the radio station my grandmother programmed in her cornflower-blue Toyota Corolla point her antennas to the sky catch onto frequencies store them stuff them deep deep deep where no one can see them believe them until she realizes the programming is the wrong frequency for her naïve antennas.

The static made her hate every part of her bones made her wish she was someone else someplace else

safe.

It resonated with every part outside herself it poured into her surroundings and pooled at her feet but she knew that keeping her toes buried underneath the static would swallow her whole and so, she shrieked so loud the next galaxy heard.

But I stuffed my ears with sound-proof cotton balls

and for that

I am sorry.

Teach Me How to Cope

My hands used to reach for sharp metal now they reach for the pen

Write she tells me and so

I do

I carve roots into my paper instead of my skin hoping they will bloom into willow trees a place to relax a place to feel safe.

See Me

You are simply an observer of your thoughts.

Watch them ascend

to the stars becoming weightless and clouded as they rise.

Do not grab one you think looks shiny or beautiful let them all pass under your watchful gaze.

The Healer

I will be content with unfinished projects as long as they are not people.

Stop walking into relationships wanting to mend

she pleads.

She says my handiwork is willingly called upon because my hands can rehabilitate.

Kiss me.

Touch me.

Hold me.

Heal me.

Sturdy

I open my eyes feel the sturdy bed under my strong back feel the warmth of the Summer day beginning to peek through my cracked window.

I am grateful to just be.

After

Come

sit with me dig your roots into this soil breathe with me

tell the child they are loved they are heard they are forgiven diagnose the wounds like a doctor you have hands that heal.