Where to Begin – a fragmented poem

I am borrowing from the Twitter site Purloined Letter for this post.
The posts that are written there are fragments of thought. They will be indicated by italics.
I will try to wrap them together with my words to make something legible and mind engaging.
Definitely an experiment of types.

Where to Begin

Speak of your journey,
the places you’ve come from
the places you are going
The magic words.
And when the memories get to much,
Can I write it all away?

Can I see them
as what they are meant to be,
rather than what they were?
from the lessons learned,
the moments captured
instead of the wounds received,
and scars running deep?
Is it possible to truly forget?

when it all echoes around in my head
the good and the bad
the moments of triumph
also failure tasted, often
The hold of the incomplete.

The steps we await others to take
are often those
we fear stepping forward in ourselves
not toe dipping,
no jumping in whole-hearted

we want to see their experience
before we’re ready to commit
but that is life only half-lived
with only half-breath, and half-experience
perhaps not even lived at all.

Let me back into myself.
Let me feel the blood pumping,
my heart racing
memories pulsing
let my skin burn pink
my eyes glow green
and let whispered breathe escape my lips
Here, I live again…and yet still on edge.

Let me hear myself think.
Words written in thought bubbles
expressing inner desires
quickly relinquished to despair
as one by one reality pops them
clean through with possibility and remembrance.

Tell me what’s different between now and then.
Your arms used to spread wide open
you weren’t afraid to hug
you weren’t afraid to jump
You weren’t afraid to soar.
and now your feet remain planted,
your arms hug yourself closed
and your wings are clipped short.

Life lived out in the open
its scary, its raw
but its living
so share with me something of you
something that`s bottomless
that resonates deep in soul echoes
that your mouth doesn`t word form
but your eyes scream  wordless

or even those haunting moments
where flight was realized
where for one moment
your shuttered eyes, blinked long and hard
at life and let it in
fearful and yet yearning
desperate for a taste of life breathe

The words of longing
stopped up in your mouth
you roar
let me write and breathe again
and the pen begins to dance
ink whips itself into a frenzy
paper primes its surface
as the heart bleed begins

your lips are loosed,
your heart released
your wings are unfurling
the song bubbling up
refuses to be silenced.

when I break, I get to know my peices better
you say
and as you pick them up
examining them under the light
surrendering them to the Healer
You see moments of pure brillence
and some where shadows linger deep

but you know that in the reassembling
in the re-molding, the life breathing
you will be restored, redeemed
and your new self, with the soul cracks filling
and heart beat returning
will no longer resemble before
but who you are now
who you are becoming
and the light shines deep
from within
from the candle recently lit
fire recently stoke
soul kindling beginning a raging burn

its the cracks
that light the in

it also lets the light out…

and you`re kaleidoscope offering
speaks of redemption.

 
by Janel Andrews written Jan 23 and 25th 2014

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3 thoughts on “Where to Begin – a fragmented poem

  1. Oh.my.goodness. Janel, do you KNOW you’re a poet?? I mean, really. This is a gorgeous ‘experiment,’ full of rich, deep, raw and redemptive truths. Oh, how it speaks to me, to where I’ve been and where I am and where I’m going. In more places than I can point out, it speaks. But especially this:
    “The words of longing
    stopped up in your mouth
    you roar
    let me write and breathe again
    and the pen begins to dance
    ink whips itself into a frenzy
    paper primes its surface
    as the heart bleed begins”

    This was me most of last year…

    Oh friend. Thank you for this. Keep writing from your heart like this.

  2. Janel, this is beautiful! This was me for so long: “we want to see their experience
    before we’re ready to commit
    but that is life only half-lived
    with only half-breath, and half-experience
    perhaps not even lived at all.”

    My wings are opening and spreading and it’s never to late to fly. This past year has been a growing process for me and I have written more than in most of my past years combined and I’m loving it.

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