Because nobody can break out from the digestive process of this feeling our whole lives. Certainly not me.
Destitute in spirit, I’ve given out my love and care in unlikely places where they’ve been needed and I’ve let the warmth of that knowledge enfold me.
But I’ve also wandered over emotional fires where I’ve soon begged for raindrops to fall onto my face. I’ve no want for anything murky, punishing, unequal nor untrue anymore.
I’ve to unravel this part of me that isolates such uncertainty. This part of me that fumbles across a barrenness that barely retrieves my understanding.
Who is this woman, and how has she grown past her wounds?
All I see is the girl whose face is turned upwards with arms outspread wide waiting for the flames of sky to claim her.
Wild in affection. Deep in love. My heart. My soul. This paradise.
— geena, feb2016