Wednesday, November 21, 2012

You called?

Hmmm...sorry I am out of sync... it took me a bit to "hear you"

Why were you thinking about me the other day? to the point you asked for me here by name?

You wanted to engage me in a conversation  You wanted to hear my words. maybe you wanted me to play hard ball withya and give you a whack upside the head?

Want me to climb inside your head and decipher the whirling chaos? Write it down for you to read?

You needed to hear my two cents aye?

*feeling you jerk free of my lasso*

I mount up and give chase.

You a slim bay mare galloping hellbent in a random weaving path. Both running from and running too at the same time....going no where fast.

I gently pull my horse next to you and match your pace.




our combined hooves sync up and the rhythm is comforting. I can hear your labored breathing, you are drowning in all that surrounds you.

That woman is the mirror is getting to be a stranger isn't she? She is this label and that label but never just you. Life has such a strangled hold on you that with each breath you are drawing in water and you are fighting to keep from drowning.

You wanna jump but you are on the ground floor. You wanna climb out from where you are but you are on the top floor. You are backed into a corner with a bear trap clamped onto your leg. The choice is chew off your leg and scurry away and remain wounded forever or ask for help.

Ask for help? arrgh that necessitates communication and vulnerability. Its easier to lie, to self and others.

Oh the pain of traveling with someone who skips, while you must walk. One who carries a single pack, while you shoulder many. How the yoke presses down and leaves furrows in your shoulders.

Its easy for others to see that YOU are holding the yoke forcing into your shoulders.... carrying more than your share of the weight.

No one cares. You want, you need someone to appreciate yourself sacrifices  But even more than want to look into the mirror and be honest with her. You want her appreciation  You want the dreams back. You want the future you dreamed about back. You don't want to be here drowning in THIS reality. You sacrificed bits of yourself along the way, stepping though hoop after hoop to please others. Till all that is left is this phony image of a woman who is not you. A lie in the mirror.

* I pour my canteen of water over your lathered hide to cool you*

And pull my horse up. I am here to listen to you. A hitching post to come back and rest at .

"Peace be the journey" I call out to your dust trail.

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