A poem. The becoming.

I go to a café to work, to write out posts and newsletters and what I have to translate.I go to a café to work and instead I start writing poems.What if the poems are the work, what if I can be this raw, put up words I wrote 5 minutes ago. Unedited.Because I go here to give what I have to you, and what I have is a messy beautiful mix of healing and living and finding a place in the world.  

provence

provence

There is nothing here that hurts me

Except old memories trying to chase me back to the past

Take them into the future make them real again

I go home and I go back in my mind already

Feeling like I have something to proof

I want to go home with my body in a cage

But I am so proud of how I have let it run free

How I became peace and it chooses to stay close to me

It does not need to run and hide

Because it feels safe here

I don’t know if it will feel safe there

I don’t know if I do.

I want to go home and show what I have become

But I am scared of it too, I play it small already.

I have let go of dreams here –

They are still very much in my mind, my heart and soul,

I have simply paused, for dreams I did not know I had

For desires I pushed to the sideline.

I did not let go of anything,

I simply stepped aside and gave birth to the parts of me

That I will need for what is to come.

I needed to become this free

I needed to become rooted in  my worth

I needed to have flirt and play and dance the nights away

I have simply paused to become the woman I need to be

To do what is next.

I want to go home and show what I have become

But I feel like they don’t see who I am,

They want to know what I have done –

And I have lived.

They say it is young to think of that as life,

That it will bite me in the ass.

BUt at least I stopped biting my tongue.