Thinking about my ghosts.
What / Who speaks to me–
How do I move through these voices, do I stop and listen, really?
Kierkegaard has something on double-mindedness.
“Is it not double-mindedness: to be ill, to put oneself under the physician’s treatment, and yet not be willing to trust the physician, but arbitarily to break off treatment.”
I need more focus–faith, patience, silence.
No words this morning. I do not even remember my dreams–but if I wake and start the day writing, perhaps that will help.
So, I try and examine this pull, need.
Do not explain me! It wants to say.
But it breaks me. Sometimes, I wake and it has walked into the morning, silent. I sit and stare for hours, abandoning the stillness by panic.
Don’t tell me I am erratic! Don’t tell me I am wild for myself.
Yes, OK, for myself, for something out there that holds myself.
The voices are inside, somewhere, teasing me.
They are standing on a cliff, somewhere, holding my heart-creature above their heads, in their hands, threatening to hurl it into greater silence.
If I move wrong into this day, will my heart-creature be another month in silence?
I was going to say, don’t tell me I work hard enough,
But why waste energy worrying what others think,
It is the door, against my forehead,
that will not open, that I worry will never bang
on its hinges. Don’t tell me to stop kneeling here,
Go on, I don’t want anything but this door and
The voices to step closer, my heart-creature in their hands, unharmed,
Rambling off into a morning sky.