Bones of the past

I’ve been running,
from the emotional bones of my past
for as long as I can remember.

Too scared to face their presence,
to stop,
to look,
to surrender.

I know not when the first bone broke,
why it fractured,
What shattered my previous emotion.

But I can run without my bones,
move forward, I’m strong,
I’ve inherited this notion.

I don’t know why they broke,
Why they fell became loose.

Fear of hurting others? rejection?
avoidance of my truth?

One bone soon became two,
ultimately several of the years.

But on I ran, a determined face,
anything but consumption of rage and tears.

You see I  wasn’t brave,
no warrior of love.

I replaced the bones with that from others,
energies from above.

And when they couldn’t hold the weight, I’d lose another bone.

Slowly and surely shaking it off
onward I would drone.

Through time I’ve hobbled on,
my run now a limping tussle.

You see I forgot, my bones support all I am, my organs blood and muscle.

And here I am, crippled, in pain,
struggling within my “prime”.

Running with my skeleton,
tied to my ankle,
running out of time.

I can’t seem to shake it,
I’ve healed, cleansed
and ignored.

I’m not sure if I can take it,
the eruptions and rationales,
from where “it’s” stored.

I hear it clanking,
right when I “think” all is well,
 when I “think” I should
“be happy”.

I’d assumed the noise would stop,
that through the “work” I’d done,
my bones would let me be.

But on they stir, and on I run,
fearful of what they have to say.

I’ll move house, change my job, block, be brave,
continue, until they go away.

I’ll fit in, have appropriate responses,
be the mother, partner, woman
I have come to hold dear.

I’ll ignore the pain, the hurt,
the insatiable longing,
while the bones come ever near.

But this doesn’t work, I’ve tried,
and louder they become.

And the more bones I continue to lose,
the harder it is to run.

Taller than me now,
engulfing me within their shadow.

I’ve tried all there is!
An untrue statement…I know.

I turn to face the stench of the past, not to fix,
heal or remove.

The stretch marks of expected potential,
raw with each groove.

They haven’t gone, there waiting,
they never go very far.

Like a road of desperation,
covered in heart-breaking tar.

I shall stand firm, upon them,
becoming whole again, once more.

Repairing my vibrational skin, sewing the triggers from which they tore.

Re-evaluating blueprints,
redesigning “how I should behave.

Re-uniting my energy and emotion, the only way to be “saved.”

They look so deformed, my bones,  so erratic,
so far from what I thought.

Not stable, controlled or slightly structured,
nothing like I’ve been “taught”.

Yet in their mis-shapes a pattern,
unique in each design.

irregularities, freedom,
I’m beginning to protectively recognise as mine.

Odd, childlike, wild, mad, unacceptable and free,
flowing like the ocean, matching all it needs to see.

I can not run anymore,
I’m tired,
and in truth, I don’t run fast.

I can not keep escaping my feelings,
of the gritty bones of my past.

It’s time to hold them now,
and place them within my skin.

Lovingly accept myself,
place meat on the bones,
find the lost me within.

I give no explanation, no reason,
for how I feel.

What I experience,
or how I’m “meant” to be.

I’ve just decided to stop running,
hiding from what’s real.

I hope you understand,
I’ve decided to stop running from me.

Are you ready to meet yourself?

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