I’m not great at handling change. It’s my constant battle with learning to let go. I hold on to the little things, they mean the most. I don’t always voice them so nobody knows the way they mean the world to me and a change in routine may feel earth-shattering. I continue the silence because I want to release that expectation, the inability to let the situation and those in it grow, make room for more. I struggle with words, titles, labels sometimes because I worry they hold the same limit to growth. More and more I come back to remembering that it’s only my own understanding of the words that adds the limit I’m perceiving.
Back to Driveway Potions
Won’t use the word witch
believe in magic
witch as a child
couldn’t have friends
driveway potions
spells, well-intentioned
Won’t use the word psychic
don’t talk to yourself
sitting on Grannie’s bed
she touched my lips
said angel’s kiss
Psychic seemed more sure
told me to trust
what’s inside myself too
the word seems off
I’m just connected too,
connected to
letting in, talking to
I talk to myself now
whispering
answer myself too
in a further away voice
not always mine
but in my head
wonder the word crazy
wonder if I would wonder
if I were really crazy
is that a thing?
Really crazy?
Or a label to discredit?
It’s better for some
if fewer know
the truth
I don’t know what labels
to use
I just know
I finally hear it too
again
Much love, until next time.
Madeline May I... 