my trauma response is to tense up automatically. I feel the muscles in my back and shoulders freeze and ache as my eyes begin to water uncontrollably. I wrestle with trying to breathe intentionally while getting swept up in the busyness of the day. Another shift in my eyes, another shift in the season, anotherContinue reading “Another Another Another”
Tag Archives: poet
Being Intentional
Poetry calms my chaotic mind. My thoughts swirling a mile a minutes filled with worry, stories, anxiety, wishes, fears, dreams, random little things, all make sense when I write. The overwhelm settles, I pick through my thoughts to find my truth. Being intentional instead of auto- pilot rewires the words in my brain to beContinue reading “Being Intentional”
Lost An Hour
I heard a man exclaim how he lost an hour of his day, the pain in his voice, as the sun set later and the night stood quiet, echoed through the air. Babies and pets don’t care the clocks have jumped forward, the ones looking after them walk around feeling dread. The morning starts anContinue reading “Lost An Hour”
Not Alone
The books I read mirror my experience back to me, reflected in a way I wish I could say but the words never came. Every page I turn, I highlight what resonates, almost every page has a sentence that will stick with me long after I finish. The beauty of storytelling is seeing the humanContinue reading “Not Alone”
Half-Birthday
I remember walking around the playground in elementary school talking with my friend, who is still my friend today, about half-birthdays. She imagined celebrating a birthday in May while I dreamed of celebrating in February. I pictured blowing out candles in winter and having a party for the fun of it. A half year ofContinue reading “Half-Birthday”
Joy In The Air
Birds chirp on a Sunday snow is finally melting the wave of cold weather haunting us all year leaving us shivering in sweaters and muddy boots has finally let up. The songs they sing fills the air with joy and the morning with hope.
Self-Doubt
Writing is as natural to me as breathing. It’s how I make sense of my thoughts and reality. I place my thoughts on lines in my journal, it’s where they’re safe. I write with messy handwriting, though I’d say it’s become more legible over the years. I am a writer, I am a poet butContinue reading “Self-Doubt”
Self-Talk
The way we talk to ourselves reflects how we view ourselves. We often do it without thinking, the little comments that fall out of our mouths whispered under our breath are quickly forgotten as we move from one moment to the next swept up by the busyness of the day. Only when we become awareContinue reading “Self-Talk”
Cold Winter
Ice stays on the road for weeks. More snow falls, melting on the main roads quickly, remaining on the side ones building on the bumps that have remained since last year.
All I Know
my breathing has changed over the years I breathe from my belly instead of my chest trying to fill my scarred airways with the opportunity to open up no matter the difficulty a little struggle with air I don’t know anything differently these days I am grateful air flows without blockage every time I hearContinue reading “All I Know”
Kelly Severseike 