I could say I have no words; that the Muse is hiding, or that I have nothing to say, but
I would be lying
I have words, so many words vacillating from incredulous disbelief to zealous commitment, to truth, to rage oh, I have words
words that keep me up at night words that rip my soul to shreds words that, if I dared utter them out loud would assure you that I have completely lost my mind even while, as they settle in your gut, you find resonance with them...
it's just words after all
I wonder sometimes if it’s best to embrace the silence or blurt it out, the raw pain, the fear, the exhaustion, the sorrow to scream, to whisper in primal tones to the air, to the sky, to the gods to whoever might listen
it may just be me thinking out loud, but I imagine that saying what everyone is afraid to say, might actually make us all a little less lonely and even pave the way to healing
ah…the irony, the brilliance! cutting words wielded to incise the poison festering in us all
when someone says, it doesn’t matter it’s not necessarily an obstinate self-defeating, depreciating, or rude thing to say it can be liberating when one knows what matters is recognizing what doesn’t... the worrying, second-guessing, soul-crushing defeatism that happens when we try to fit in, be accepted, follow the rules, play the game be noticed… in fact, not mattering, where invisibility is a gift, anonymity, sublime is where what matters most, breathing loving being happens... the rest is an illusion, smoke and mirrors, the sum of a life wasted
~kat
I’m actually in a good place…where nothing matters but the things that do. With age comes wisdom and a general “I don’t give a fuck” attitude! When life gets shorter, you realize life is too short! It is glorious place to be!!! Oh my… did I just say/write fuck?!!! Well I don’t give a “you know what”! 🤪
how odd it feels this dark drear night as sheets of rain and milky fog obscure my sight while puddles swell earth waterlogged from outer bands that sweep the sky a monster with a single eye, a tempest wielding misery over a thousand miles, its bitter tears from too warm seas brings half a nation to its knees odd, i think, to taste the rain that's caused such pain to neighbors i will never meet terribly connected, we, and yet so far, so very far away
~kat
This poem was birthed in the foothills of Bramlette Mountain at dusk on the 30th of September 2022 as the outer bands of Hurricane Ian bent the pines and drenched the loam while simultaneously making landfall several states away on the South Carolina coast. We humans truly are a wrinkle, a mere blip on the vast landscape of this earth. Who are we to boast of anything at all when a raindrop can render us small?
there’s a nip in the air cricket-song muted and the random trill of winter birds breaks the din, “i am still here”, they seem to say, my senses come to life this time of year, not in springtime, nor summer, certainly not in sleepy winter, but autumn, when sunlight through the trees bends into shades of gold, chartreuse and amber, warm on my full face my skin tingling cool, when the loam prepares her nest to welcome home leaves set free on the wind, when the calendar meanders slowly toward year’s end urging me to loose my own burdens for a brief spell, survival, loss, longing, to embrace moments of joy, peace, contentment, love, to breathe… to bake bread for breaking to make soup for sharing, to don sweaters and socks, to tuck my feet into the crook of an oversized chair, while sipping tea with honey as the days grow shorter, and the gloaming blooms vibrant streams of crimson, “i am still here”, i muse, “i am still here”
take care, what you wish for little tree; don’t rush to blush amidst midsummer’s balmy haze, for summer comes but once a season; take your cue from elder trees, their lavish manes of sparkling emerald, chartreuse and sage, wisdom comes from weathering life’s cycles, grace and age, and autumn, with her cool dawn snap will be here soon enough you’ll see; so entertain the breeze and dance, while dusk holds back the shade of night, your dreams will keep, they’re never late, but lie in wait until the time is right…oh little tree stay green, let your sprouting limbs grow strong stretch your roots into the loam that holds the memories of home in just a blink your innocence will be laid bare, as winter’s snow becomes your hair, the night will wrap you tight and long and you will wonder where time’s gone, and think about the summers passed, while drifting off to sleep
So it is easier for you to find all the parts/chapters of my ongoing fiction series, I created a new page that lists all the links. You can check it out HERE!
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