Feral Fields

There are times that sadness pours from my eyes: Through my soul grief is allowed to unfold in its process, Now

 it wasn't always like that.

Many places left untouched. packed away and ignored, until they spring forth. 

I can explain myself but it's been my experience that I won't be believed.  You won't listen to hear me anyway. 

Really, 

I don't want to explain, I never did.  

That doesn't mean I have not given my life greatest consideration.

it's a ticket. The explication. 

 Instead I'm learning to live in a place that has 

No right no wrong just done. Did, doing. 

In my world the decisions have been weighed. I know them intimately. Anxiety pushes in my throat when I hold the idea that is not my own. 

I felt the prickly of pain and fear. Disappointment. I felt it and accepted 

No judgment, no berating, no belittling,  all self inflicted. 

Creating a place to speak the emotions and allow them to burn through my feral field. The burn is necessary

It creates the space and nutrients to sustain a new unfolding. 

(Orginially posted 6 months ago)

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