it’s never


I eat into a hole of ever-elusive comfort

fullness that makes me sick

shame and guilt and weakening of spirit

compound on top of the ice cream sundae

chips and dip

subs and pasta and fast food crap

my face puffs and minerals drain

I wonder why I self sabotage

this draws me rightfully to further inspection

I need to nip this and heal this and open this wound

love myself more and not be confused

about my place and who I am and why the sky falls

about my heart and how it was wounded

my mother wound and father too

divorce and moving and being a parent to my mom

when life got too much for her

I shouldn’t’ve had to be the support

for her wounds of childhood, myself a child

I was too strong, too kind, too spiritual, too grounded

for my age; god wanted me to play

I carry this pack with me today

still following me around, often heavy and draining

I am filling up with over-everything




Let me draw a line in the sand, for myself

Let me heal myself as no one else will for me

I don’t have to prove myself to anyone (and even when I try, I often fail regardless)

I don’t have to carry your load, I can set down your pack

and continue on my way on my own

the ridge is calling me home.

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