Leakey, Texas. Thinking of you in these hills, Sisters barefoot and isolated, Only the trees lending an ear to your exceptionally curious minds, My own heart healing while honoring my unconditional love for you, And you.
Contemptuously conditioned to stuff extremely complicated subjects into tiny boxes. Hoarding what’s ours and hissing at anyone who questions, No, threatens! I don’t believe that some are tougher than others. Sensitivity is the nature of our species, Some of us are just better liars, Cloaking ourselves in more acceptable emotions like indifference, anger, annoyance. Because most of us have souls that fled somewhere in the early chaos, Leaving our hearts exposed to whatever change of wind life decides to blow.
I ran to the hills to catch a breath, a few breaths, some new fucking lungs. I needed time, Everyone needs time sometimes, Despite what we’re raised to believe.
I needed my memory and in these hills the last they were seen. The smell alone was enough, The cedar, the soil. And just as I suspected, they arrived.
Many say you can’t live in the past and I agree it can be a horrid place. But you also can’t heal what hasn’t been exposed. And there are few things I find more courageous than facing your greatest opponent.
I am, he’s not They don’t, I do I can, she shouldn’t
Most of us spend our entire lives making rules for others that don’t apply to ourselves. Most of us spend our entire lives desperately trying to differentiate ourselves from others. Only to discover we all shit, piss and sleep the same.