Own Splinters

Do not be conformed

to this world,

but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.

That my mind can lift me, thank you.

For discipline and forgiveness, lavender bath salts and Brahms,

memory, how it fills gaps where loneliness grows too bold.

And for loneliness. It has an achoring effect.

Otherwise, I think I’d forget to reach out, to be more than just a body, but a movement.

I thought of this, feeling a heat rise up in my chest. Again, anxiety-creature. I locked myself in the restroom to breathe. My head was swimming like a balloon up on a hill. I didn’t know where each thought would drift. I had no map for the moment. This can be a shock. We forget how controlled we keep the mind, most days, until it somehow breaks through the gates.

But I thought, let it pass, hold out your hand. Offer it help. Allow yourself this. Allow yourself to feel panic. Bend around it softly. Present it with flowers and a pasture to work things out.

There’s no wrong moment, no perfect emotion. Only those that walk away unheard and those that are given a chance to come undone, without judgment.

For a moment—I could be the calm around my own splintering. And I thought, energy is energy—cry, kiss the forearm, remember running through the rain, asking the evening to extend itself, how sometimes it feels like the body dissipates. This can happen in confusion and in joy.

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