Stirring Nights

Won't pretend to be sterile,
As the fragile of me steeps within
Weathering rains, leathery pains,

Make it tight to digest the within.

My well as a wading tide
Holds moons that channel my deep
Stirring aroar, unto a thundery shore
Are the prophecies we have yet to weep

The understood has rarely been played
But by the few who have become well famed
And yet the glimpse is in the weak
An ultimate of the well claimed dame.

Then

"Let her speak and cry, and bemoan to the world as she would
For she has been wronged and cries out to Mom, the Goddess of all Motherhood."

This is me,
Never deep,as yet tho never narrow
I arrive the shadow of all game

A stirring flame; a rivalrie's pain
Keeps the dark a flame

Mysteries deep
Like the willowy creek
As the vein of her pulse runs through

Never a pain, nor a gain,

If there's never a gamble to do.

What I don't wanna say

For all the places I feel I have to be appropriate, this is not one.  I am sick of holding these images in, these art galleries that scream of refuge and pain.  I am sick of going numb to the battle wounds, feeling each time, everything's still the same.  Sick of feeling disempowered, and just wondering what is is that I have to do to get the life back in me and breathing...not to be numb, and not to feel hopeless.

What triggered me tonight was her "taking away what was mine."  I hated her for it...For "doing this to me again"...

I am so afraid.  So afraid to fail and to start anew.  So afraid to owe people, and to risk money.  So afraid to pull Kyra into it...So afraid of myself.  I am so afraid of what all the kharma means, and so afraid of lack of my own power and self dicipline.