Still feeling the dinosaur vibe. Love the idea of making a collection of dinosaur poetry. We’ll see if that happens.
Thinking about the power of those creatures and how different the world was to sustain them. We used to have so much oxygen on the planet that it would actually kill us if we tried to breathe it. It allowed for wildly different growth. Consider dragon flies large enough to swoop by and snap your head off. And then the things that ate them. And the things that are them…just what was it like at the top of that particular food chain?
The titular line of this piece came to me years ago in a convoluted notion about how we weaponize our injuries. A conversation with a dear friend had me returning to the line and considering the deeper ramifications of it.
I have mixed feelings about surprises. Some are welcome. Some are not. Today I received the latter kind, which struck doubly hard because I was expecting the former. The original concept was something a little more fecal (with a comparison to chocolate), but I couldn’t bring myself to swear, which is what I feel that particular poem’s muse would have required of me. In the end, I think that this poem is better than the one originally envisioned. Anyone thirsty?
First time sharing a poem and not giving it a title. I’d love to hear your thoughts, ideas, or suggestions. Let me know what you think it should be called in the comments below!
Been thinking on the nature of forgiveness and resentment this morning. Consider the act of simply letting go something that frustrates you or a wrong that has been done. Simple right? Easy, not so much. How does one actually perform the act of release? It’s a choice but is that the end of it? I don’t think so. I think forgiveness is a continuous series of choices, or perhaps a single choice set on repeat, that is at worst set to an eternal repeat.
Failure to make the choice, however often it needs to be made, results in holding tight to something. Something that might give you power. Something that might burn you from the inside out. Something that might turn toxic and burn people it’s not intended for.
I was asked the other day if I EVER got mad or angry. I do. Only I do one of two things with it. I let it go right away. Or I hold onto it, or a part of it, and bury it deep, where it slowly accumulates like a landfill until it spills over in passive aggressive acts or an unfounded explosion. Probably oversharing here. Just processing this habit of mine, contemplating the effects, and how to prevent it from happening or finding an appropriate outlet.