The Shadow

Hovering over your every move
Darkness shrouded
Lying in wait
To pounce on the unsuspecting

To raise a storm tide
For a wrong word, a look, a smile
For a letter missing
For an idea incomplete
For independent thought
For a rumour taken as truth
For truth taken as lie
For a molehill perceived as an elephant

The shadow is stuck in front of the mirror
Fixated
Concealer to hide the marks
A fragile mask of normalcy

Not to be seen
Not to be known
Not to be found out

Hasty strokes applied
Over and over again
Mimikri for a world full of enemies

They must not know
They must not see
The shadow is caught in echoes of his reflection

Trigger Warning

Like light and dark
Like clouds crossing the ocean
So cross your feelings
Bobbing with the waves
Push and pull

Come closer I need you
Go away I hate you

That’s how it works
The traumatized self
Can’t cope alone
Can’t cope together

Must find someone to hate
To leash out to
Must have an enemy
Because every enemy created is better
Is saver then the enemy within

The one you can’t escape
The one who whispers from the shadows
The one you have forgotten

For now

But the pain
You haven’t forgotten
The pain is still there
Body memory
Simmering underneath the surface
The pain is anger now
A self righteous mission against windmills
Giants who never were

That’s why you chose to fight them
They are invisible
Nobody understands
And thus you win because nobody can tell you that your mission is a hoax
A distraction
A ploy

Summertime

And the livin’ ain’t easy

Summertime
And you make me queezy

Summertime
And you are miserable

Summertime
And your soul is in the darkest winter

Summertime
And I let go
Your winter is not my cold to fight
Your darkness is not mine to carry

Your hate is a reflection from your mirror
Your bile is oozing back into your soul
The hurt you cause comes back to you sevenfold

I release you
I release you from me
I release me from you

I release you from your pain
I release you from the fog
I release you from your self-imposed shackles
I release you from your hate
I release you from your revenge
I release you from your perpetrator
I release you from your victimhood
I release you back into the wild

Geh mit Gott aber geh

Warning harsh language!

we are caught in dichotomies
things are either black
or white

but this is not how we heal
we heal in the inbetween spaces

we heal in odem of prayer
we heal in unconditional love

but

but

but

I hate your guts
I hate everything you stand for
I hate your manipulation
I hate your abuse
I hate your lies
I hate your pettiness
I hate your professional victimhood
I hate your refusal to live
I hate your refusal to heal
I hate your anger
I hate your darkness
I hate your violence
I hate your hate
I even hate the hairs on your toes

but

I want you to heal
I want you to live
I want you to look in the mirror
I want you to see the light
I want you to take your pain
to really take it
and then let it go

I want you to fucking heal

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

There was some debate lately in various forums with people of the healing ilk, about the nature of healing, boundary setting, professional victims, and expectations of some to ‘be healed’ not ‘do the healing’ … you know the whole leading the horse to water thing. And opinions seem to vary from clear cut: at some point someone needs a kick in the groin or at least be shunned, to: Love! Love as healing everything. So in my mixed medium art and the poem above I tried to show the crass dichotomy between love and hate, and in the poem the healer being caught in anger about someone passing on pain, being abusive, but the healers urge to still wanting to fix it.

There is a reason for fairy tales

for tales we tell again and again
and yet we don’t seem to learn
from these tales of ours

as they repeat over and over and over
again

a different place
a different time
and different characters

sometimes
somewhere
somewhen

some of us
parallel
reenact
the same story

a story that has already been told
a story of pain
a story of hurt pride
a story of too much ego
a story that ultimately ends in regret

yet still
we spin the tale
we walk the path
we repeat the story
to be passed on
by us

to be heard
and forgotten
and repeated

just

in a slightly different version

so

What’s your story?

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: