I just rolled over and with a startling thud
hit my head on a book.
That’s one way to wake up
a little more fun than some boring old alarm.
Lately I’ve been digging in
trying to understand the hurt.
To get to the core by scratching
at surfaces and letting them bleed.
Uncovering things that were hiding
underneath the words.
Subtle meaning shadowed
is now standing in the light.
Answering questions asked of me
by a voice that has no sound.
And asking questions back again
to ears that only hear.
It’s deep, intense and often hurts
there’s no shallow end in this pool.
Just places to keep treading water
in an effort to learn to swim.
Close to the end of the night, last night
everything got too real.
Too raw, too stark, too revealingly bright
the ugliness on display.
I ran to the garden and laid myself down
underneath a rose tree.
I breathed in and breathed in again and again
until the beauty of the scent was in me.
It’s hard just to lay back down again
with the feeling of being so alone.
So I asked Pooh and Piglet to take me back
to the Hundred Acre Wood.