(originally posted on october 3rd at vulnerablog.com)
Sometimes standing on ground
Just isn’t real.
Perhaps it never is?
I can feel the earth
Squidging through my toes
Yet my spirit seems dislocated.
If only I could breathe up from the core
Into my being
And feel anchored.
But my disconnect makes everything seem
Out of reach.
My delicate roots
Have been trampled and bruised
Even though they are deep beneath the surface
The tips of my reaches are bleeding.
When my heart disposed her encasing
She wanting to wither and cover up
In shrouds and shrouds of cocooning webs.
And the turning and turning of her needs
Has sent my mind whirlpooling
At the tail end of her spin.
With my feet so ethereally planted
To the imaginings of ground
There seems not enough magnetism
To beckon me back down.
Yet I try.
I dive into my sorrow and swim
In my discomforts
And snorkel round my trampled reefs
Finding new and different life.
My heart, although turning
Is still enough to lend me home.
I dive within and learn to breathe
Although I fear the choke.