Dealing With The Past

I was just going through things on another of my blogs when I found this - and searching through past posts I found I had never posted it here before, so . . .

*

Tentatively

I scrape away at the surface.

Little by little the top layer is removed

exposing the rich, brown soil.

Hidden from the light, it has been concealed,

moist, damp, dark and fertile.



I make a hollow

and feel the crumbly earth

packed under my fingernails,

as I start to dig.



Bare hands

excavating,

deeper, deeper

as a hole is pulled

from inside myself

and transplanted in the ground

beneath my dirty hands.



This deep dark cavern is potent,

receptive and waiting

as I drop my past into the bottom,

and feel it spread and ooze

down into the expectant earth.



From deep within me

I release my unspent tears,

they surge upward, irrigating me

loosening the tiny rocks

and pebbles

of hurt



Gushing out and into the hole,

shiny and wet against the black earth.

Washed clean



I feel bubbles of joy rising from my core,

I drop to my knees as I begin to smile

and then with my body shaking

I laugh into that deep dark hole.



From out of my mouth

like shining stars,

seeds S C A T T E R

on the newly fertilised soil

and begin to germinate as soon

as they touch the ground.



The joy thunders through my body

as I gently cup the mounded soil

and begin to fill the hole.


*

- Susannah Bec 2010

A Container For The Flow

I give thanks for these pages
somewhere to pour my words
a container for the flow

they drip from my fingers
touching the keyboard
letters become words

building structures
sentences for my thoughts
to inhabit

dark intricate stairways forged
by the words that trickle
in well worn grooves

Blank pages that have function
enabling me to float
saving me

from

drowning

*

- Susannah Bec 2010