All in Poetry

The Gift

The gift of sickness is in learning to care.
The gift in suffering is in learning to surrender.
The gift in loneliness is in learning to need.
Every story you make up,
Every doubt you sow deeply,
Must have a counterbalance.
A yin to the yang.
Take what is offered, they say.
Even if the offering isn’t what you’d hoped.
Even if the job doesn’t come.
Even if the ones you love keep leaving.
Even if your body is collapsing underneath you.
Take what is offered, and muster up what is required to weather it.
It was not given you lightly.
It is assumed that you are already capable.
That you were born ready for the storm,
About to wash away life as you know it — as you wanted it.
That you would run towards it with open arms,
And a willing heart.
It is certain: you were meant to receive it.
So go.
Move forward with the marks that come from survival.
Feel the strength that has been stitched into you through perseverance.
Find the capacity for joy that the grief created.
Notice the opportunities that arise when everything else falls away.
Bask in the light that was waiting for you to find it,
Walking through the darkness you never thought could end.
The depth of what you’re feeling goes both ways.
There are those who crave what you have been blessed with.
Find them, and give them your need, your surrender, your care.
Help them to see their gifts through the curses disguising them.
Help them move forward, and through.
Together, you’ll always look for the upside,
Even when it feels like it’s dragging you down.

What Does It Mean To Be An Empath?

It means I pick up your shit and won’t let it go.
Carry it throughout my day 
Integrate it into my being
Until I can no longer distinguish the line between you and I. 
It means that I’m still thinking about that ragey driver who cut me off and flipped me both birds through her tinted SUV windows this morning. 
Not because I’m pissed that she cut me off,
But because I’m worried about her…

I Want To Be A Morning Person

I can’t even count how many times I’ve said, “I’m tired,”
And expected that to be enough of an excuse, an exemption, an explanation, for all of my behavior and perceived shortcomings. 
How many times I’ve negotiated with the screaming Mimi’s in my mind, Telling them that the day wasn’t wasted. That it’s OK for me to sleep in. 
Finding faith in inching towards some semblance of balance. 
Blurring the lines between self-care and self-sabotage, not being able to trust my own instincts because I’m. Just. That. Exhausted…

Hide & Seek

You’re not lost. Not yet. 
You’re just waiting for someone else to find you. 
You want them to recognize what you are, and relay the message. 
Music and movement open you up for seconds, minutes, maybe even hours…
And then you return to your oyster. Safe. Closed. Clamped shut. 
Your friends call it turtling, because the world is a scary place, and burying your chin into your shirt collar makes you feel safer. 
You are terrified. And that’s okay. 
You have no idea what comes next, but you expect the worst. 
Stuck in your ways, burrowing into your blankets with quiet despair,
I see you. 
I want you to know, no matter how alone you feel, how small, how unsettled and unmoored,
You know better.
You will remember, in time,
That you are worthy of all the things you don’t believe you deserve. 
And the only way you will ever find out exactly what you are made of,
Is by making something new, and having the courage to share it.
Seek openness.
Lean into fear. 
Question judgement. 
You’ve got this, little one. 
It’s safe to come out now.