soul searching.

sometimes it takes one person to be real to make you realize that it's okay to let all the layers of ego fall away. undress myself for you to see that inside i'm still broken. even as a strong independent womyn, i hurt just like any other. in the whirlwind of extra-curricular-activist-reclaiming-spiritual-gaining, something deep within me feels loss. i loved a man and a friend and a child who aren't tangible to my fingertips, to my lips, to my lover hips.

to fill such a void, i've immersed myself in community, engaged myself fully in the struggles of peoples so that i don't have to focus on my own internal struggle. but it isn't as satisfying; it is temporary. granted, i am blessed to have the opportunity of being surrounded by the most beautiful people in the world, but these people are not living in my house. when i come home at night, there is no one to hold me, to cuddle with, to eat dinner with, to run their hands on my face when i'm sleeping, to rub cold feet against, to love like lovers.

to be intimate with. yeah i want to share intimacy because it is a manageable, micro-revolution of love. and though i made the choice to live alone for introspection, shit, sometimes independence falls into loneliness and before you even know it, life has moved on and left, forgotten about you....

people mistake me to be a happy person, a warm energy, and it is there, however it came from a deep darker place where children cry, people die, and there ain't no one i can depend on except myself. so it's hard for me to trust others, the warmth others give me, the attention others give me. is it real? at what point did i start to exist? at what moment am i me? i am scared of what is to come knowing there probably won't be anyone to come with me. calvin would've dropped everything for me, and did drop his dreams just to be close to me, but how is that fair? and i couldn't even talk my fears out with him either, i just pushed and pushed and pushed the same way i did with all the others and it's the same damn cycle. fuck my cycles, or "in loves gone bust." everyone knows that one shouldn't judge on identity markers, so why is it that this patriarchal, hypermasculine, slanger, get-by, worker whom i loved was not enough? why am I not enough for myself?

where are you god? and what spaces do you fill? i wanna believe in the silence again. the hum of my laptop isn't enough. are you in the colors of the sand? the scoop of a wave? the light behind the clouds, the cloud itself, the mouth of a boy chewing, the eye of a sewing needle, the laughter of a child, my own laughter?....

after putting immense amounts of energy in caring for Ava, I come home to no child of my own, and i don't know how to describe the smile, hug, laughter of a child but it's pure...holy, sacred because she knows how to be in the present. god, how can i bring a child into a world that knows no justice? that has perils and pain? why am i in this world? what is my calling?

i am drawn to the domestic. i wanna be a mother, i like to cook, notsomuch clean, kick it with my kid, and just play yet something in my soul stirs because there is work to be done; superheroes can't take a break. so do i surrender to your power? my own power?

i'm afraid of what i am capable of.