Pacing

I can’t remember the last time I have felt this lost. Pacing for days, crawling out of my skin and no comfort to be found. Redefining myself with no luxury of time, overwhelmed at the thought that all that I have built was so quickly stripped away with a signature on the dotted line. Committed to compassion in a cold industry no different than any other bureaucracy. The thought of saying goodbye to my oldest friend is breaking me. Without the genuineness of the stripped down existence I have come to know as a second home. I no longer know where I belong. And truth is I am scared.

I am the child who disappeared before I was grown and the girl on the skateboard just to out roll the boys. I was the teen who died handcuffed to a door and the woman who sat besides men with no souls. Perhaps not having anything before made it easier to ignore the fear.

Too tired to really write, I feel unable to even catch the thoughts that race through my mind like particles of dust being swept up by the wave of a hot breeze. My anger displayed in alone moments in my car as I curse those around me. Even the exhaustion from the day that began at dawn has not lulled me to sleep. For a moment today as the rain fell upon my head as I stood in the silence of the trees and the hills, I could breath deeply as the flitters through the trees harmonized with nature’s songs. My world colored in grays and greens since Friday brightened by the sight of the yellow of an enormous slug. I think about the red of the Viking, which has always brought calm and I long for just a moment in his arms. And now that night has fallen, I feel the urge to crawl on my floor like the accused awaiting trial familiar with the routines behind the gate. I recognize the panic like waves lapping at the shore, as the clouds above turn dark. And I repeat to myself, “I am strong, I am strong.”