creating me [using words]

Something Hopeful

I find this need for healing,
for connectivity with others,
for movement forward, and
for purging out the poison
is SO great that I keep
trying, reaching, working,
talking, writing, despite
all my stay-in-bed-under-the-covers
mornings, despite my
emotional melt-downs,
all my cries of “I-can’t-do-it-
anymore,” despite the regular
throwing up of my hands
and the desire to crawl
into a loving lap and sob
and be blessed and never
have to work hard again–
despite all that,
I am still breathing, folks,
and I am more-than-breathing,
I am writing.
So take that, all-the-evil,
I have a voice,
still soft but undeterred.
Even when I try a new thing–
god it takes soooo much
courage just to try–
even when I try
and am disappointed
and retreat to my bed
to pretend my pillows
are warm lovers or mothers
of safety and comfort,
inanimate objects providing
an embrace that cannot
backfire later,
even then, I eventually
get back up,
try another new thing
and another
and another.
How do I keep going?
I do not know.
But I know that
I go and that this
inexplicable gumption
is stitching my wounds
thread by thread.


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5 thoughts on “Something Hopeful

  1. Hal Caugthron on said:

    This was great! Your life, at least since I have known you, is accurately and amazingly and imaginatively described in these lines. Thank you for sharing them.

  2. All this pain, and then watching you walk to sit behind the microphone and deliver yet another of your wondrous Wisdom sermons. Kyndall Rae, you’ve got “inexplicable gumption” in spades.

    Not to mention the transparency of this sacred walk. You bless us with your courage and your truth.

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creating me [using words]


creating me [using words]

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