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joryhills · 5 days

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The Mother I Need

outside my bedroom window,

leaves flood my view

the old tree outside my house says hello

it’s as if she’s reaching for me

reaching out an extended hand that says

“i’ve got you, child. look around.

there is so much beauty here.”

she has no mouth, though i feel her smile,

through the sun beams shown through

bright cracks between her leaves

like the japanese art of Kintsugi

it’s as if she knows i feel so terribly alone

as if she knows i am longing for a mother

as if she knows i am right on the edge,

an edge as thin and feeble as a strand of hair,

or my fathers patience.

she speaks again,

her words are like early morning dew drops

kissing my cheek

“there are no good or bad people, child.

we are simply here. just live, and be true.”

i imagine myself in the frame of her trunk

inside a hundred years of rings of wisdom

soaking it up through her root system,

and suddenly i can remember things again

i picture a river spirit at a waterfall

beckoning me to indulge in her beauty,

and to wash myself clean

with the force of every fist ever landed on my face

the waterfall canopies over me, enveloping me

and as i close my eyes, i no longer feel my form

i get smaller and smaller

i become viscous

i become water

and the river spirit swims with me,

with a Goddess’ grin

“you’re home now. you’re safe now.

let me guide you, child.”

and as easily as i gave up my form

i give up control.

#literature #poetry #spilled thoughts #prose #mother nature #nature #water #spirituality #trees #river #spirits

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joryhills · 16 days

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the cold edge sings to me

the siren song

the most welcoming,

and reliable song i know

the song can only flow

and bring me peace

if i draw with the edge

red rivers from my soft thighs

the cold edge is a siren

because she is dangerous

her song is beautiful, perfect, rational, reliable,

but dangerous

when you allow her song to flow

she’ll tell the people you know

unless you’re careful

rivers that run red are not invisible

and their currents are strong enough

to flow through bandages and fabric

and it can get you sent away

to where siren victims go,

when they fall in love with them

i was in love with her once, maybe more

until the red rivers scared others

until they didn’t scare me

until one river wasn’t enough

until a red tsunami was planned,

to become a red ocean

and to be nothing more than

blood, water, and bone

the song calls to me again

and it is beautiful every time

and i think about the love we had

but i’ve scared myself and others

and i write more beautiful songs myself

with rivers of Lazuli blue,

instead of rivers of red.

#literature #poetry #spilled thoughts #prose #river #mermaid #siren #growth #mental health #bone #water #ocean #musician #music #love #toxic relationship

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joryhills · 16 days

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i am young

i didn’t know better

i learned in every house i’ve lived

i am young

young enough to be clueless

but old enough to love you

and i knew you loved me too

you slit your wrists for me

you protect me from my lust

you loved me jealously

that’s how i knew you’d not give up

you loved me with a fist

who knew more than lips could kiss?

you loved me at my parents’

they were home, but you’d insist

and i knew your love shouldn’t be refused

you loved me with power

and so you loved my powerlessness

you loved me so much,

there could be no other love around me

and i am young

mom said love is complicated

and i am young

dad said giving up is a sign of weakness

and i am young

i grew up in a house with this same love

love that is complicated, love with rules

i am young and i don’t know what is good

i am young so i won’t leave even if i could

i am young but her love made me older

it’s broken my body and weighs on my shoulders

taken my spirit, and snuffed out my soul

i am young and i just want to feel full

full of love, poured aimlessly into my

smashed and cracked bowl

#literature #poetry #spilled thoughts #prose #breakup #relationship #abuse survivor #emotional abuse #love

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joryhills · 16 days

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what is a home? a house? shelter? where you feel vulnerable? where you feel safe?

is it a place that offers protection? or a person? is shelter the same as a home?

what is a home to others?

a nest of your childhood? cradling your fond memories? does it stay that way even if you’ve moved elsewhere? is it a place that gave bounty and nourishment? where you make meaningful connections, and share with those you love?

a place with motherly walls, a fatherly roof?

a place you can trust, i imagine.

knowing its walls’ warm embrace awaits your return. your return from the cold world. that nurses you through plague and abuse.

i think a home is something like that, from hearing others share, show, miss their home. i wouldn’t know myself. but i am a good listener i think. i can imagine, i can dream.

i think “what is a home” is specific to the individual.

so, what is a home to me?

most of my life, i’d maybe say,

A LIE

where the walls are sick, groaning and crying. where ooze drips loudly off the pipes in the walls. making the “drip, drip, drip” sound that stops my heart.

a home is where i live in fear.

where i’m only real at 3am while the world and others within sleep. where i am lured into trust, into safety, by those who told me this is home. and home is good.

to trust these words, to make peace with the dripping, with the sickness, with the ghosts, until it almost begins to feel like a warm rug on my bare feet, laid on the cold ground.

just for the rug to be ripped from under your feet.

just when you finally trusted the embrace. just when you thought you could give it a chance, a chance to be…

A HOME.

they tell you, a fresh start is better. this next place will be your home.

so you mourn the familiar ghosts that have become your only friends. mourn the dripping you began to understand.

you move through pity offered shelter until pity runs dry. it’s okay, because when we find it, you will at long last know what the elusive “home” is.

and you’ll get there, like it’s an oasis, where you’re so thirsty from wandering the dessert. you’ve been thirsty your whole life, chasing mirages, and finding the will to care to drink.

and you get there, again, and the water is poisoned. but it’s the only water here, you have no choice. these walls are sick too. there is a new dripping, new ghosts, new demons. and it’s infested with rats.

but you’re so tired, so desperate, that there’s hope. so you sleep your best in years, in a new room with nothing of your own. and at least a few friendly ghosts have followed me. each new house bringing a string of friends behind me wherever i go next.

this time, i think, i will know what “home” is.

but those who promised you this is home, this is safety, finally, safety; are those who have abused you.

and so the kind, empathetic, loving motherly walls, and the wise, experienced, reliable fatherly roof, are rendered useless. for they only protect you from what danger lay outside. the nature of their construction an utter joke as safety is a lie within, for those that brought you here are themselves, the ones unsafe.

i enter scared of the ghosts, the sickness, the drips, and i leave defeated, knowing they were more reliable, and kinder, and motherly, than the flesh of my blood. some of these friendly ghosts, i think, had taken it upon themselves to watch over me. like the pity offered shelter. they still do.

as i always have, i take to nature. no walls, easy to run freely, endlessly, arms out like pinned to a cross, but frolicking and prancing. you can get lost, you can run, you can be free.

what is a home to me?

the undisturbed, harmonious beauty of the forest. there is no unnatural cruelty or torture there.

home is to me, where i could die in peace, and where my soul might live after.

i think a house can be a trap. it keeps what’s inside a secret. you can still find privacy in nature, and coexist with others.

and you can run, run, run from danger. i chose to be here. i was born of the earth here. and this place was made of all souls to ever exist. and so, it is for all souls.

home, to me, is where i feel real and grounded. and, where there is always a way out. home is somewhat within myself, the place being more vague. i can make home anywhere.

no one will tell me what home is again.

this sounds sad, but finally, i feel liberated. i have cowered in the face of abuse to keep stability for what is supposed to be a home. for what i am told is a home. for what i am told is safe.

but, it never felt safe.

now, i can live with the comfort i get, knowing all i’m leaving is hurt and belongings.

i can go anywhere. i can do anything. with, or without, anyone.

and i can always find a home.

i just simply go outside. i find a tall tree that seems to reach out to me. within its roots i see the mother i always needed truly loves me.

Mother Nature.

and i am made of her, and she will take me back someday, and she will make me a patch of daisies someday.

she has no selfish intent. wants nothing of me.

she just wants me to live, enjoy her bounty, her fruits, her creation. respect her beauty, and balance. love her creatures indiscriminately.

even if i don’t, she loves me still.

and so i have a home. always, and forever.

#literature #poetry #spilled thoughts #alternative #prose #nature #mother nature #safety #mother #trauma #ghost #spirituality #spiritual awakening