23 janv. 2017

The Time of the Little Deaths

Wow, two years since I last shared a poem here... I haven't stopped writing, but my creative juices have mostly been directed towards specific projects. Or have been too personal to share. 
This one is pretty raw and personal, but, as the wonderful and inspiring Sarah Slean just posted (as usual, she always comes up exactly when I need her in my life!): "Let your hair down and your scars show!"
So here are some scars from about a year ago. 

Now is the time of the Little Deaths
the Shedding of the skin
     piece by piece          particle by particle          atom by atom

I am changing
leaving the dead parts of me behind
Like a phoenix, reborn from the ashes of a former life

It's not always easy
Death hurts     sometimes
the process of dying is not a peaceful one
it can be full of rage and sorrow
the former self screaming
     begging to be allowed to stay

But the old skin is already too tight
and I can't breathe inside it
 so I squirm
     and pant
        and cry
            and shake
  until there is nothing
nothing left but a shell
  and a naked newborn
terrified by this new world.

Quick! Protect it! Rebuild the old walls!

But no
it must be allowed to take its first steps
to taste and hear and smell and touch
this terrifying      exciting
new world.

This is the time of the Little Deaths
This is the time of the Phoenix. 

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