On Condition that you stay

'Stay in this dress and lay this way. Be here when I get back and don’t forget to bring the wine. Be calm and don’t post anything. Stay this way, in this time. Please stay this way and in this condition.'

I am easier to love on Fridays, when I am too tired to argue. Saturday I am rested and full of light. I feel my eyes twinkle for you as I strain my neck looking into your eyes. I am fun, I am perfect I am sensual. I am ready, I can quieten myself enough to see only you.

You asked to see me on a Sunday. A day I felt it difficult to see myself in the right light. A day filled with all that I run from. They were here, all of them, the words, the whispers and the lies had come to visit.


"Yes, you may come through” I responded full of uncertainty. Then adjusted myself to be that way. To stay in that dress and lay that way. You were here and my absence lay beside you. I adjusted myself to lay that way, in that dress so you may not have noticed that I was not there.

How do I learn to make you stay when I am out of the condition? When I am loud, when I am not in that dress, when I cannot outrun myself, will you stay in those conditions?

Finding comfort in discomfort

So I sit here a woman growing out of the girl I used to be. I have no excuses and it hurts.

I miss my excuses that I could run to and clutch when accused. But I am free but now I am burdened.


I am full of contradictions and dying from wanting. I want everything but cannot give up anything. I am full and empty of all the things I truly desire. I lie and but I am laced with the truth of my humanity. I dance with wolves at night and tend to sheep through the day. I am both scarred and healed. I am running from my past while creating a new one.

I am trying to move to a new rhythm as life constantly changes the strings. I release my feet and I allow myself to be the hypocrite I truly am. The sacrificing Christian, the humble yet ambitious, the meditating Zulu, the submissive feminist. I paint myself in grey and sit in the sun. I am what I am. I am incomplete and I am content. I want the gold and silver but I am also drawn to the mellow image of walking down a street with a baby in arms. I want my existence to be enough but I am constantly conscious over what I am not creating.

I am a house divided today. I am proud but ashamed at how perfectly inadequate I am when I look around. What I fear hangs solely in my mind and it is real. I am in between a growth spurt and it hurts. It hurts to be wrong and at times dis-empowering to not know what's next. We want comfort and the glory and I have yet to see them side by side. I feel my heart's resistance build up as I admit this fact that I have to become comfortable with the thought of failing. The thought is the enemy, the looming spear, the evil laugh with no face that is who I fear. The fall itself injures but quickly fades and can easily be transcended.

What do I do with these hands? Where do I go with these thoughts? Do I lay it all down and let myself be? Do I fight the nature and pick a side, the better side of my face and forgo the complexity of the other? These are thoughts I lay down as I feel the tug as I feel as though I am on the brink of myselves. The edge of all I know and to fall into a wonderland of my dreams, prepared to take the lashes for love and content opposing thoughts that are merely suggestions and projections. Falling into a fearless state. Falling at ease with oneself and ready to meet my Maker, greet him and proceed with what I am here to do.