I woke at 4 am again today. As soon as I reached that stage of semi consciousness I felt my brain go into gear. I tried to stop it..but that simply didn’t work. There I was lying there in the dark trying to stop my brain from going into worry mode – from fipping into the state that I was in when I went to bed last night – a state of frustration, distress, and plain old ‘pissed off-ness’.
It didn’t work!
So at 4 am clearly I had something to do. I had to write it down.. get it out .. create a reality check for myself. What was really going on? An hour and a half later it was pretty much done. I had written an appeal email – to be sent only to my friends – those who I thought just might read my tirade and be able to give me a hand to make the needed changes here.
It was one of those mornings where I was on fire. The fire of a passion that ignited underneath a vision that was crumbling around me. It had been building for some time – I was either going to throw everything I had been working for out completely .. and leave. Walk out – let go – shift across the street – anywhere but here. Or express.
I chose the expression route. I expressed first to my friends and then to the crew around me. They copped it.. everything I had been sitting on for weeks – all the old stuff.. it came out – was it all true? It certainly seemed so to me – so yes it was true for me and needed to be said.
When that was done I got on with my day. I sent the emails – and very quickly an old and good friend extended his generous hand to me.
And the energy began to flow again.. out from behind the stuckness of non-communication – shaken loose by the tirade of home truths.
And what next? That is all to be revealed. Tonight perhaps I shall not wake again at 4 am .. and if I do maybe this time I can rise and write poetry instead of distress calls in the middle of the night.
Awake – eyes open consciousness comes in with a bang
Awaiting release of the pent up coils of misunderstandings
The black cloud hovers and rain threatens
confusion roils around the darkess of my mind
and the dam bursts
the words flying without censorship
say what you feel
say what you mean
no longer to hold it tight to your chest
contricting the heart and deadening the love
does it hurt? does it hurt?
It hurts but the pain is of the healing
of the deep knife of compassion
cutting – probing – into the festering wounds of silence
the poison released
the healing begins