A common experience for me is spinning, blurry thoughts, aka “spaghetti brain.”
When I start to feel like this, I like to make sense of my thought through poetry. Recently, I was feeling confused and unsure – feelings we all know very well.
Welcome to the result. I hope it shows you honesty and truth. I pray it gives you hope and peace in the dark place.
I am not perfect
Things are coming out of my mouth that I never expected
Trauma hidden deeper within my soul than I have met
I heard whispers of wrongdoings and injustices before
And spoke out passionately in favour and protection of the victims
I raised swords to perpetrators; selflessly and without fear;
Biting the hands of those who feed the weak with deceit
and pulling off veils of guilt from clouded and exploited eyes
Little did I know, I was defending myself in all of this
Fighting for my own honour
Washing away my own shame and grime
I never realised the depth of my contusions
Or the extent of my injuries
How could I not see my own history?
Was I not there; my own body, mind and spirit experiencing the tragedies I was gifted?
How did I not know my own brokenness?
Every wind-breath blows the curtains just enough to see the wilderness inside;
to open the blinds to reality
Every morning I have to convince myself to stay alive
Every evening I stay awake to avoid the terror of night and darkness,
but mainly the agony of waking up again
I enjoy walking the tightrope
The unconscious state; the line between life and death
The moments of relief before consciousness straps you with worries and emotions and expectations
I think of how lovely it would be to be a robot
To be able to analyse everything clearly
To be able to assess situations fairly and completely
To avoid the great grief of loving deeply
and being rejected at an even more hidden depth
But here I am
A living, breathing human being
I am not a robot, but a vessel of blood, bones and spirit
Who for some reason, is still alive and still capable of more
I didn't ask for this life
and these days I find myself praying to trade it in for a better prize,
or just return it all together
But here I am
Someone who is alive
More than someone who is not alive
Different to someone who was alive but is now dead
Here I am
Tattered and feisty
Bruised and damaged
Sometimes scary and intense
Yelling with a bursting heart against tyranny and repression
Taking from my iron chest of anger and confusion and tendency to suppress my emotions
And giving to the world wisdom and depth and the refusal to accept what is average
This is not who I thought I was
I'm confused about my perceptions
But I'm enjoying the release much more
I didn't know I was so sad
I feel guilty for not meeting my own expectations
I feel guilty for not being perfect.
I didn't know I was fighting for myself
I feel guilty for the times I've wanted to let go
I feel proud that I haven't yet.
Don't let me go, World
The in between is not enough
I don't want to hide like I normally do
I want to beat fear to death with my shoe.
I want to be someone who wants to be alive
Every day I'm trying to.
Laura Miles is an excitable and fast-paced Brit, living in Australia. Loves: tea, maximalist fashion and people. Hates: details, brushing her hair and being put into a box. After committing to studying, she is expectant and excited to see all the crazy things that the Lord is going to do in her life.