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The atmosphere is thick with emotional chaos. As one season clings to the air long after its expiration date, even this chemical imbalance can’t deny one truth: the woman within simply can’t be held back. She has a story, she has a voice, and this is her season to emerge. She must find a way to piece together the fragments of her unique experiences in order to illustrate the beauty within.
This week’s features are a representation of the chaos swimming within my own emotional imbalance. Each day that passes where the seasons simply won’t allow each other their respectful exchange increases my internal turmoil. There is a chant that echos off the dormant walls of my mind that is exclaiming, “Set me free. Set me free. Now’s the time. Let me out.”
So, without further ado, here are the Sunday features. I hope they minister to your spirits the way they have mine.
Spring may not have taken over what is rightfully hers, but tell that to the blossom that radiates from woman’s eager spirit.
You Can Never Hold Back Spring © by Kasia Ikasia
Imagine if she simply shed that cloak of shame and regret and stepped into the new dawn.
What If © by Rhenastarr
Imprisoned in her own mind
Afraid to step out of her
Solitude
She had worn the quiet
And the loneliness like
A cloak
Timid and insecure
Always taunted by the
What ifs
What if she took a chance
Maybe fall a time or two
What if she lifted herself
Up
Took a step back and
Looked at where she
Had been and explore
How she felt now
What if she shook off
The cloak
Walked naked into
The light
Would she find the
Woman she knew
Was hiding deep
Inside of her
Would she be able
To distance herself
From the safe haven
Of her cocoon of
Self doubt
Denials
Remembered hurts
Face the truths that
She had shelved
Forgive herself
For the entity she had
Allowed herself to become
What if
Tomorrow offered her a renewal
A chance to be better than
The yesterdays she had left
Behind
What if
She let the anger disperse
Like air escaping from a wilting
Balloon
She wanted to feel free
She wanted to be able to look
At her reflection in the mirror
And forgive herself and face
Forward, not looking back
Walking into a new dawn
A new beginning
A new woman
What if she gave her heart
A chance to love again
What if
Can she wrestle out of the turmoil that binds her inner self to yesterday’s bondage?
Inner Turmoil © by virgosun
Perhaps she could just bask in the prophesy held with her dream of approaching happiness.
Prelude to Happiness © by April Mansilla
And I hear it rolling it
But I am not going
To look back
I have never run
So fast
With my eyes up
To the heavens
And my broken spirit
Traveling through
Beautiful moments
To freedom
And I have never been here
Before and it
Feels unfamiliar
This prelude
Of happiness
Beginning in me
I held my hands
out and prayed
With my five senses
That this may never
Leave me
She may need to do some spring cleaning to unearth the mysteries within waiting to be discovered.
Enigma © by Janelle McKain
Or perhaps she’s ready to scream from the mountaintops: “Nothing will ever crush my spirit. Nothing!”
King of the Mountain © by Beautifuldreamer
You climb me
as if I were a ladder,
each rung as sturdy as a child’s bone
angled to unnatural position,
accommodating the weight and brunt of you.
You climb me laboriously,
red-faced and salt-sweaty
panting with fevered eyes.
At night in my dreams
my bare feet perch sure-footed on Jacob’s ladder,
a ladder of a different sort
reaching past your foul gropings
and verbal sewage;
in my dreams I am not afraid of heights
nor of the arrows that fly by day,
nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness.
At night, in my dream-sodden sleep,
I am a pure child of God
whose heart beats ever stronger
with each cloud I pass through, with each brush of angels’ wings
tickling my cheekbone
on my way to my trysting place of old.
It is only when I am earthbound once more
that my heart cries out in anguish:
Oh sweet Ancient of Days,
break the rungs of my entrapment
make of me a better something
than a receptacle for clumsy work-boots,
and feet which had no business
trampling my mattress
in the first place.
So she’ll realign her spirit to be one with mother earth.
Ku © by hsien-ku
Even if she has to till the neglected ground with her own hands.
Somewhere in Oakland County © by lovelyrita
it is a wasteland
trees line themselves up along the surface
but behind them lies
behind them lies grass and dirt and land
devoid of roots
i dig a hole in the sand
big enough for my head, dreaming
that things will get better,
while I bury myself alive
gradually
turning to dust.
And in doing so, she will be loosed from the chains that bind her to yesterday.
Turbulent Portal © by ArtPearl
If only she remembers to hold tight to her soul while she’s shaking free from last season’s repression.
the loss of a soul © by Sally Omar
it didn’t happen in one day
nor one year
not at a certain time
rather randomly
slowly throughout a lifetime
perhaps it was the disappointments
the tragedy of everyday life
perhaps perpetual pain
often self-inflicted
the bad dreams
the terror of ghosts past
loss of love
loss of faith
pictures engraved in the mind
that could not be erased
but somewhere in time
between the anger
and sadness
it happened
a heart drained
a soul lost
never to be found again
eyes closed
to the world
huddled alone in darkness
the loss of a soul
Lest she emerge into this new season more broken and anxious.
A Great Unease © by Anthea Slade
Where she will either forever fly with these oppressive burdens upon her weary shoulders or decide that today is the day she will fly free.
My Albatross © by autumnwind
yesterday…
twisting,
winding through
corners of cold stone
edges of sharp dark
finding
lost
alone
again
I am the black
behind the mirror
in the cave
of secret walls
when everything else
is gone
and I know
nothing
do not live
where loss dims sky
and obliterates light
sensing shadows
i seek its source
embellished prisms
reflecting
mere fragments
of forgotten dreams
I mistakenly step on
shards of hope
stick
to my bleeding feet
i tire
of the pain
as i drown in blame
open your eyes
the voice
which teaches
is silent
butterfly
the one
that dances
for what you have
… what you had
… what you have discovered
you are
i grasp the key
to your enlightened heart
and wonder
how I can imagine
all is lost
and not believe
when you are here
This week’s features are a representation of the chaos swimming within my own emotional imbalance. Each day that passes where the seasons simply won’t allow each other their respectful exchange increases my internal turmoil. There is a chant that echos off the dormant walls of my mind that is exclaiming, “Set me free. Set me free. Now’s the time. Let me out.”
So, without further ado, here are the Sunday features. I hope they minister to your spirits the way they have mine.
Spring may not have taken over what is rightfully hers, but tell that to the blossom that radiates from woman’s eager spirit.
You Can Never Hold Back Spring © by Kasia Ikasia
Imagine if she simply shed that cloak of shame and regret and stepped into the new dawn.
What If © by Rhenastarr
Imprisoned in her own mind
Afraid to step out of her
Solitude
She had worn the quiet
And the loneliness like
A cloak
Timid and insecure
Always taunted by the
What ifs
What if she took a chance
Maybe fall a time or two
What if she lifted herself
Up
Took a step back and
Looked at where she
Had been and explore
How she felt now
What if she shook off
The cloak
Walked naked into
The light
Would she find the
Woman she knew
Was hiding deep
Inside of her
Would she be able
To distance herself
From the safe haven
Of her cocoon of
Self doubt
Denials
Remembered hurts
Face the truths that
She had shelved
Forgive herself
For the entity she had
Allowed herself to become
What if
Tomorrow offered her a renewal
A chance to be better than
The yesterdays she had left
Behind
What if
She let the anger disperse
Like air escaping from a wilting
Balloon
She wanted to feel free
She wanted to be able to look
At her reflection in the mirror
And forgive herself and face
Forward, not looking back
Walking into a new dawn
A new beginning
A new woman
What if she gave her heart
A chance to love again
What if
Can she wrestle out of the turmoil that binds her inner self to yesterday’s bondage?
Inner Turmoil © by virgosun
Perhaps she could just bask in the prophesy held with her dream of approaching happiness.
Prelude to Happiness © by April Mansilla
And I hear it rolling it
But I am not going
To look back
I have never run
So fast
With my eyes up
To the heavens
And my broken spirit
Traveling through
Beautiful moments
To freedom
And I have never been here
Before and it
Feels unfamiliar
This prelude
Of happiness
Beginning in me
I held my hands
out and prayed
With my five senses
That this may never
Leave me
She may need to do some spring cleaning to unearth the mysteries within waiting to be discovered.
Enigma © by Janelle McKain
Or perhaps she’s ready to scream from the mountaintops: “Nothing will ever crush my spirit. Nothing!”
King of the Mountain © by Beautifuldreamer
You climb me
as if I were a ladder,
each rung as sturdy as a child’s bone
angled to unnatural position,
accommodating the weight and brunt of you.
You climb me laboriously,
red-faced and salt-sweaty
panting with fevered eyes.
At night in my dreams
my bare feet perch sure-footed on Jacob’s ladder,
a ladder of a different sort
reaching past your foul gropings
and verbal sewage;
in my dreams I am not afraid of heights
nor of the arrows that fly by day,
nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness.
At night, in my dream-sodden sleep,
I am a pure child of God
whose heart beats ever stronger
with each cloud I pass through, with each brush of angels’ wings
tickling my cheekbone
on my way to my trysting place of old.
It is only when I am earthbound once more
that my heart cries out in anguish:
Oh sweet Ancient of Days,
break the rungs of my entrapment
make of me a better something
than a receptacle for clumsy work-boots,
and feet which had no business
trampling my mattress
in the first place.
So she’ll realign her spirit to be one with mother earth.
Ku © by hsien-ku
Even if she has to till the neglected ground with her own hands.
Somewhere in Oakland County © by lovelyrita
it is a wasteland
trees line themselves up along the surface
but behind them lies
behind them lies grass and dirt and land
devoid of roots
i dig a hole in the sand
big enough for my head, dreaming
that things will get better,
while I bury myself alive
gradually
turning to dust.
And in doing so, she will be loosed from the chains that bind her to yesterday.
Turbulent Portal © by ArtPearl
If only she remembers to hold tight to her soul while she’s shaking free from last season’s repression.
the loss of a soul © by Sally Omar
it didn’t happen in one day
nor one year
not at a certain time
rather randomly
slowly throughout a lifetime
perhaps it was the disappointments
the tragedy of everyday life
perhaps perpetual pain
often self-inflicted
the bad dreams
the terror of ghosts past
loss of love
loss of faith
pictures engraved in the mind
that could not be erased
but somewhere in time
between the anger
and sadness
it happened
a heart drained
a soul lost
never to be found again
eyes closed
to the world
huddled alone in darkness
the loss of a soul
Lest she emerge into this new season more broken and anxious.
A Great Unease © by Anthea Slade
Where she will either forever fly with these oppressive burdens upon her weary shoulders or decide that today is the day she will fly free.
My Albatross © by autumnwind
yesterday…
twisting,
winding through
corners of cold stone
edges of sharp dark
finding
lost
alone
again
I am the black
behind the mirror
in the cave
of secret walls
when everything else
is gone
and I know
nothing
do not live
where loss dims sky
and obliterates light
sensing shadows
i seek its source
embellished prisms
reflecting
mere fragments
of forgotten dreams
I mistakenly step on
shards of hope
stick
to my bleeding feet
i tire
of the pain
as i drown in blame
open your eyes
the voice
which teaches
is silent
butterfly
the one
that dances
for what you have
… what you had
… what you have discovered
you are
i grasp the key
to your enlightened heart
and wonder
how I can imagine
all is lost
and not believe
when you are here
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