I am …

I am not my mother.
Or the mother before her.
I am not like another.
I am not the lies I have believed in secret.
Or the ones still screaming my name in broad daylight.

I am not defeated.

I am not lost.

I am the pieces I have gathered,
Flame tested,
made ever stronger amongst the ash.

I am the lessons I have watched
Unfold before me,
The ones that still leave
The taste of blood in my mouth.

I am battle tested,
A collection of scars,
Redeemed and made beautiful,
Over and over and over again.

I am a universe,
A love story,
Stitched together by grace.

I am relentless.
I am hope.

cswhitlow

Shattered

Shattered like stained glass

Scattered across such unforgiving ground

Price paid for a reckless rebellion

Elbow deep in abandoned hope

She sifts anxious

Through bloody shards and dust

Searching, digging, scavenging

For just one piece

The one,

That will reflect the Light back in.

The one,

That always reminds her

why she should

Stand and fight again.

cswhitlow

Will

I will set this fear on fire.

I will brush the blood and gravel from these weary knees.

I will stand and sift through the glorious ash of the girl too afraid to live.

I will gather up the good pieces left refined

And leave the rest to become ink and scars.

I will put to good use this needle and thread.

I will allow to mend what has been left torn open.

I will open wide, wiser eyes and seek.

I will sing a new song.

I will emerge less of her ….

and so very much more.

I will.

I am.

cswhitlow

Growing Pains


Woken from nightmares again …

What if’s and Why did I’s

raining down like volcano ash;

suffocating,

gray,

smothering the light

that sets free.

What if I simply slipped back into winter, frozen and numb?

Why did I let myself begin to burn?

What if I ran again …

from him, from her, from the dreams?

Why did I let myself be seen?

What if I went back into hiding?

Why did I step from the shadows at all?

What if I gave back into fear?

Why did I ever believe their lies?

cswhitlow

Lost

Oh my darling…

 

I do not worry when you rage,

When your passion calls for blood to spill,

When your anger articulates sharply,

When your spirit churns,

No,

I do not worry then.

 

Oh, but my darling…

 

When your rage falls silent,

When your passionate words cease ,

When your anger dissolves into resignation,

When all grows still and quiet,

Then,

Do I fear…

It is then,

I know I have lost you.

 

cswhitlow