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Cocoons Can be Comfy

an introverted autist retreats

Bare of Soul

For a not so peoply sort, I have encountered a lot of people here on the road. Some I could not bear but a bit of polite exchange with, others I could sense a beauty in, and allow to peer a bit deeper into my soul…

I have been both bare of soul

And excessively clothed,

Depending on the hour and the

Company which I am keeping.

For disdainful eyes sweeping,

My heavy wrap of quiet is most convenient.

For kinder, gentler gazes,

I can afford to undress to

Deeper phases of my heart.

There is a beauty in such vulnerability,

Exchanged one to another

As we pass each other

On life’s long road.

But, it’s all right, I am finding,

To be selective

Who you reveal your innermost self to

And who we guard against in the cold.

We must allow ourselves to be held in,

Under cloaks of night if need be,

For it makes the open times

That much more precious,

A nakedness deeper than mere skin….

Free of the Cell

Screw not writing right now. I decided trip or no trip, if I have something to say, I will carve out a few minutes. Traveling through pretty mountainous regions right now. Something about the twists and turns ( when my anxiety about vehicles lets up for a spell. ☺) has me thinking with some clarity…

All my life,

I have felt so jailed,

One way or another.

Always thought someone or 

Something else was

Swinging the bars closed,

Jingling the taunting keys

As they locked me away for keeps,

A cuffed canary, silenced by her dirty cage…

But, the more I glean of the inner me,

The more I awake to seeing 

That the cage that I live in

Is the cage I’ve constructed

With my own two hands,

Built out of the cold

Others flung from the freezers 

Of their hearts.

They made icicles of many of my times, yes..

But-

No one and nothing can ever truly

Hem me in,

Not for as long as I have a heart or a pen.

In my autist creativity, there are no bounds.

Not in a stranger sent to strangle,

Not even in crowding kin.

In the raw beauty of survival,

There are no real chains.

Here I lift my chin in the encroaching rain

And say fie! to those who would seek

To shackle me round.

Even if that is in the endless internal monologue of myself.

For, there comes moments for us all

When we must sit ourselves down

With bold reminders of the strength on our side,

Rally the troops inside to refuse 

To stand aside,

But, rather, to seize those blasted keys

And march out free of the cell

Set up years ago in the blindest state of mind…

Breakdown?

Finding impending trips don’t mean an escape from the harsher realities of PTSD and spectrum life…

And finding I can’t seem to shut up on here lately. Sorry for any who are sick of me not taking the break I alluded to like 4 days ago. 🙄

Oh, friends, I really want this thing to be a positive experience! In fact, between you and me, I need it to. Why, then, am I so scared? Why can’t I get this contrary mind of mine in gear ?! Arrrgh!!!! 

I draw my knees up into my chest,

Lay my head down,

And go silent in my tears,

As if I can gradually disappear inside

Myself,

Washing away the ugly years of fears.

I grow fiercely guarded,

Protective of my right to a private sort of

Meltdown moment.

Don’t want to share it;

Don’t really relish even having to

Own it.

It’s just there, harping

More and more and more…

The word “breakdown” edges in sharply,

Jagged shards bursting from the door-

The one I thought I had tightly shut and barred.

I don’t really even feel aware of who I am,

Or where I want to be.

Inside, all is careening out the dam

But, damnit all, I’m still not free.

Cannot let myself fall off the ledge now.

Not convenient to the upcoming itinerary!

God, please show me how…

Don’t let me lose my grip on my sanity…

Elusive

We are set to head out soon and will be gone several days. Frustrated as I have been with waning creativity, or, at least the sort I am satisfied with, I had not intended on another post until we were back, but this came to me earlier today in the processing of my constantly running brain. Almost chucked it, thought of scheduling it for later, but figured, what the hell? Let’s just throw it out there…

Light knifes pink through the horizon.

Routinely, I pick up the

Proverbial pen,

Flip open a fresh page of living

And wonder where to begin.

Some days, there is something 

Incredible that overtakes me,

Lyrics dancing electric on every limb.

Others, my every utterance is like

Gears grinding rust,

Seizing up like a wheel with a bent rim.

I hardly know upon rising

Which will greet my day.

For ability seems to meet me

Only in varying waves.

Exultant movements of creative drive?

Well, desire is always humming somewhere.

But, the actual wherewithal proves 

Far more elusive the longer I’m alive,

The more weight I bear.

Perhaps, this side of me is finishing,

Or so goes the question burrowing 

From deep in my fear.

Yet, my heart aches for replenishing,

To twine out in fresh branches of artistry

For any out there who still will lend an eye or ear…

Journey

Yes, yes, more talk. So uncharacteristic of me here. Will I ever slow down? 🤔

Well,  I think I will after this. At least, for a brief break.

I  just had to share first that the panic of the past few days has subsided. All I was fearing has turned in our favor! My dear girl, our finances, and the old family vehicle are all pronounced well-all three of which were in question before. 

As a result, in a matter of days, we are actually off and away on a bit of a road trip, something we have not had much of in our married life!  I can honestly get a bit anxious in unfamiliar territory, but, right now, my heart feels restless. Change will do us all good. Maybe I will even come back with a few new thoughts. Until then, I leave you with this…

Out my window,

Waves of grass are winding,

Welcoming my feet to wander.

Oh-so-cautious me,

Usually so reluctant to enter the breach

Actually dares to place a toe out in 

This sweeping sea,

Following my heart’s stir

To view a little more than

My often insular world

And find what it will offer me.

I hope for beauty,

I thirst for curiosities.

Old buildings

And legends galore.

Mysterious music, merriment, and more.

Sad but true

That I always must convince myself I am entitled…

But, with courage my cue,

I find I must recognize journeys can be vital…

Mirror Maze

This is half poetry post, half processing. Half-baked? 😕 

Of late, I am writing more. That should be good, right? I have a lot to say. Yet, almost I am feeling as if I am beginning to pump a drying well. 

Really. This stuff doesn’t seem as good as prior efforts. And, I actually looked at stats. I make it a practice not to in this happy, non-ambitious world I have set up here. But, I did. And they seem… low. Sigh. 

Maybe, I am just too hard on myself. Maybe I need to not read too much into absence. Or I might just have realized I can’t fully escape the approval seeker inside. I don’t know. At any rate, I don’t know just what I am seeing, but I know I don’t like it…

Sometimes, I wonder if I will ever 

Truly be content in myself,

Even in this, my blessed haven of

Eternal words.

I snatch at bits and pieces,

You see,

Sharing morsels with those precious few

I feel I can trust to see me.

I smile a moment,

Think I’ve found peace,

Only to find it gone.

Oh, there are depths

I can’t seem to get,

A place that is drying up

Before I can reach it!

And, somehow, I know I could dare not 

Reveal it all 

Even if I could.

Not even to the looking glass gaze.

For, yes, I often shrink from my own reflection, my friends;

I cringe and retreat to a sort of 

Unfocused haze.

Or, maybe, maybe… it’s just that it’s hard to

Find the right face, anyway, 

In this,

My not-so-funhouse mirror maze…

Memories of Evening Blue

It took me a bit to click together why my departed granny is on the brain lately. I always think of her most in August. Not only because this is the month she passed, but, also, the month we were always winding up a visit with her. Lots of nights were spent savoring summer on her front porch…

Past whistles down the dirt road tonight,

Sidles right up to my slab of porchlight…

And I hear your country girl drawl,

Drawing out an old tale of gladder days,

Winstons flickering the deepening

Evening blue.

Somewhere in the distance,

Tinkle of ice in the red tea glass,

Crickets call to one another of

Love so true.

Amazing grace how sweet the sound

Weaves itself into the wandering air,

A cool and soothing caress all around,

Brushing away these endless cares.

And I find I miss you so much

At the same exact moment

I find you still nearby,

Like almost we could touch.

For, though, I no longer see your face,

I carry you from years gone by

To this very time and place.

Memories swelling, aching

In such bittersweet fashion, but it’s okay.

Mourning’s less keen than before.

It’s more like the serene limbo ‘tween 

Sleep and waking

A dream moving so slow and so fast

All at once

‘Tween where we go and where 

We’ve been,

All we were,

And all that’s still in the making…

True Beauty

Yeah, I know. I am a tad chattier here of late. Just call this The Old Grump, Part Two. 😂 But, in all seriousness, I think this is keeping my mind off the unknown in other parts of my life. And, a good excuse for a sketch. I don’t really do portraits, as I struggle to copy someone’s features accurately, but this one is based on my granny whom I lost several years ago.

It is no sin to have freckled skin,

Or virgin hair that frizzes out a bit.

Teeth that are not brilliant white twin rows

Still can eat and smile, goodness knows.

Joy and laughter need not be reserved

To only the smooth or the “rightly” curved.

Beauty in life is for those who choose to partake it-

Far purer to me than the ones who just fake it…

Panic

Some things going on in my life right now that I have very little power over. Some are events which will not come to an absolution for days. I am so not good with the pins and needles of waiting. 😓 A couple are somethings that have the potential to turn out either great or total disappointment. Trying to stay calm. Thought I was, actually. And, suddenly, this morning, I find myself in the midst of a panic attack over it all….

My heart is tearing right out of

My chest.

A crash of tears I didn’t even know

Were threatening

Come flooding down

My startled face.

Is it depressed mood that has

Caught me by surprise

This time?

I don’t know.

Don’t think so.

Not sad so much as scared.

All this unknowing has me undone, after all.

I know how I am; how is it I was so…

Unprepared?

Is this panic, perhaps?

Yes, yes, that is in there;

I begin to recognize its 

Tightening hold on me.

Today inexplicably feels like

A day of

Impending loss,

Even doom.

No rhyme or reason but the squeeze

In my gut.

And the utterance of 

This foolishness I feel

Makes it seem 

That much more inevitable…

Already, I am prepping for

Terrible news,

Even calamity…

Ridiculous, really.

Good could also be on the brink, you know.

But, to believe for that

And have it snatched?

Far worse than gearing up for worst.

Either way,  the weaving of events

Is spinning right out of my hands

As only these things can…

Oh, all right now is naught but

Imaginings, only imaginings, 

Unfounded when you get down to it!

But oh-so-powerful in their grip

Nonetheless.

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