Rebirth in Red and Gold

 


Thank God—yes, thank God—I’ve healed.

I’ve shed the old me like a snake shedding winter skin.

Mirrors keep throwing my past in my face,

but I glance and cringe, then laugh—I don’t live there anymore.


September poured its lessons into October like fire into water,

scorching the last remnants of my old attachments.

Unconscious blockages came crawling, hoping I’d stumble…

but honey, I glide now.


I see the karmic IOUs waving their tiny flags,

and I nod—acknowledged, settled, unapologetically free.

Love requests? Sweetheart, I raise an eyebrow—been there, almost lost my mind there.

Not today. I imagine the chaos I’d have been,

a wild, overwhelming, love-obsessed hurricane…

people would’ve fled from me, and I would’ve run from me too.


But here I stand, polished, unfazed,

grateful for the lessons,

grateful for the heartbreaks,

grateful for me.

And I promise, this version?

She’s permanent. She’s genius. She’s sassy. She’s unstoppable.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The pattern isn't the problem. Lack of awareness is

Image
Today I found myself deep in thought again. To be honest, I usually am. My mind tends to wander into questions most people pass by without noticing. Something pulled me toward the The Emerald Tablets of Thoth the Atlantean, specifically the chapter about the Key of Time . It speaks about time not as a straight line, but as something circular. Cycles. Loops. Patterns that repeat themselves until something changes. That idea stayed with me long after I finished reading. Because when you look closely at life, it starts to feel true. Our past has a strange way of shaping our future. Childhood experiences, the things we witness growing up, the wounds we carry without even realizing it. They settle somewhere deep within us and quietly influence the decisions we make later on. You often hear people say, “I will never repeat the mistakes my parents made.” On the surface, that sounds like a powerful promise. A vow to do better. A vow to be different. But sometimes that vow becomes something h...
Read more

A Prayer for the Hell I Know

Image
  Lord I miss home. Not because it was gentle not because it was kind but because it was familiar. I hated it there. I hated the walls the voices the way pain learned my name. And yet compared to where I stand now it feels like shelter. I thought this place would save me. I thought safety lived here that peace wore this address. But saints can be cruel Lord crueler than demons who admit what they are. They smile with Scripture on their lips hands lifted in worship eyes closed to the wreckage they cause. They never look in the mirror. They hide behind the Bible behind church doors behind the illusion of holiness. So here I am praying words I never thought I would dare to say. Send me back. Back to the hell I know. Back to the demons whose faces I recognize. I would rather bleed where I understand the wounds than suffocate among those who call themselves pure while sharpening their knives in secret. I hate that I want this. I hate that I have no choice. I hate that endurance has beco...
Read more

Letting Go is Hard, But It Needs to Happen.

Image
  Letting go sounds simple when you say it out loud. But the truth is, it’s one of the hardest things the heart ever has to learn. Sometimes it’s not the leaving that hurts the most — it’s what rises to the surface when someone returns. Recently, a person who once meant the world to me came back. Our story never ended with a dramatic goodbye. No fight. No explanation. Just silence — the kind that echoes in the spaces where words should have lived. We were close once. The kind of close where conversations flowed without effort and laughter came easy. Beneath the friendship lived something neither of us expected — a soft, unspoken love that surprised us both. And just as quickly as it appeared, he pulled away. The distance wasn’t just physical; it unraveled something inside me. His silence awakened parts of myself I didn’t know were fragile. Insecurity. Obsession. The fear of not being enough. I became desperate for crumbs of attention, and somewhere along the way, I began losing mys...
Read more