Poetry by Chelsea Gilliam
Some days I want to curse the depth of my feelings. My emotional reservoir feels like an expansive pit that ends at a pool of lava, building a fire inside of me. Sometimes I worry I will not find someone with enough space in their life for all that I am. You see, I am a lot. I have a lot of opinions and plans I will start and never finish. My imagination has continued to expand with age, not diminish. I believe in love the size of the cosmos because I have felt things humans haven't yet created words to describe. I take up space. I dance. I yell. I give gifts to Mother Earth and talk to my divine self. I befriend animals and trees, and fungi and bees. I bring nature into my home. I have swam naked in every body of water I have found.I have no desire to squeeze myself into the corner of someone's existence. I will never be willing to part with pieces of who I am to accommodate an illusory boundary of a limitless feeling.
________________________
The chill caresses my bones
one last time
reminding me discomfort
is just a breeze away.
New life emerges
from the seemingly barren surroundings
I feel the seasons changing who I am,
year after year.
Leaves that once turned themselves,
are waiting for my hand.
I am turning the wheel.
I am leaving my fingerprints,
and scratches
on the backs of
clouds and rainbows.
one last time
reminding me discomfort
is just a breeze away.
New life emerges
from the seemingly barren surroundings
I feel the seasons changing who I am,
year after year.
Leaves that once turned themselves,
are waiting for my hand.
I am turning the wheel.
I am leaving my fingerprints,
and scratches
on the backs of
clouds and rainbows.
_____________________
Today is the day.
Today is the day I put down the broom you handed me. I've carried it since the moment I fell in love with you - to every conversation, every moon rise, every hello and goodbye. My hands, calloused with the work that was expected of me, became numb to gentle caresses. The bones- seemingly molded around the wooden handle were no longer capable of interlocking yours.
Today is the day.
Today is the day I refuse to sweep away uncomfortable discussions, expectations or past transgressions. I will no longer spend my time and energy cleaning messes I did not make. Today, I will use my worn fingertips to write my farewell in the dust on the floor.
Today is the day I put down the broom you handed me. I've carried it since the moment I fell in love with you - to every conversation, every moon rise, every hello and goodbye. My hands, calloused with the work that was expected of me, became numb to gentle caresses. The bones- seemingly molded around the wooden handle were no longer capable of interlocking yours.
Today is the day.
Today is the day I refuse to sweep away uncomfortable discussions, expectations or past transgressions. I will no longer spend my time and energy cleaning messes I did not make. Today, I will use my worn fingertips to write my farewell in the dust on the floor.
_________________
Who do I thank
for you?
I can only imagine you chose me
because I needed to be reminded
of just how soft
souls begin.
You see, Love,
mine is calloused from
the nagging of unfulfilled desires,
atrophied from the emptiness
of exploration,
charred by the fire
I have swallowed,
and punctured by
the teeth of those I trusted.
It takes a lot of heat to light the coal
where my soul once rested.
My son, your resiliency reminds me
it is okay to bear my chest to pain -
to risk disappointment
for the reward of acceptance and
to get lost
in hopes I find someplace new.
Thank you for picking me
and bringing everything I left
in the stars
down with you.
for you?
I can only imagine you chose me
because I needed to be reminded
of just how soft
souls begin.
You see, Love,
mine is calloused from
the nagging of unfulfilled desires,
atrophied from the emptiness
of exploration,
charred by the fire
I have swallowed,
and punctured by
the teeth of those I trusted.
It takes a lot of heat to light the coal
where my soul once rested.
My son, your resiliency reminds me
it is okay to bear my chest to pain -
to risk disappointment
for the reward of acceptance and
to get lost
in hopes I find someplace new.
Thank you for picking me
and bringing everything I left
in the stars
down with you.
_______________
I want to spend the rest of my lifesmelling of patchouli
and tasting of ginger.
I want to grow a garden of herbs,
fill my shelves with tinctures,
bath in the ghost
of sage and palo santo,
drink coffee in an oversized shirt
on Sunday mornings,
and count the moons as time slows
slows
slows
down.
How cruel it is to be human.
Our most vivid images -
those of happiness
and fulfillment,
regardless how elementary
the concept,
elude existence
while our greatest fears
are played out
day after night
after day.
_____________________
When the dirt is your easel and the sky is your canvas, the price of your art is measured in madness.
______________
The ultimate death is not a lack of breath, it is a purgatory of stillness in the soul.
___________
I do not know everything about who I am. I am ever-changing. I do know, however, who I will never be again.
Bio: My name is Chelsea. I have written poetry under the alias @Night_Owl_Poesy on instagram for the last year and a half. Writing is one important way I practice self-care. I am a doctor by day and a secular witch by night. Yes, we exist.
No comments:
Post a Comment