Awakening

Withered worn and weary.
This man's words have cut through my heart like a knife.
Searing the chambers.
Burning flesh.
And yet I go back for more.
Turning to the one who is wicked, who is cutting through my soul.
Yet I yearn for more.
And more and more.
Raised to believe in myself, my God.
To be complete, an alive and awakening woman.
What is it that makes one turn to this frivolity, this abuse?
It lingers and remains as long as I allow.
The sadness becomes welcoming.
A bit of bread, fragmented dreams, a fitful sleep...have become my carriage.
Learning to exist on the mere beauty of kind words.
Feeding me.
Beckoning me to come forward, to drink from the fruit of the vine.
What is it about the darkness that is so enticing?
That I come to drink from the fountain of seeping rotten soliloquies
As it wretches through my being.
A cough sputtering forth of purging and phlegm.
Why can't I accept the truths which lie before me?
"God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food."
My mind races back to my childhood of reciting the prayers,
instead of the mad raving texts, which flood my brain.
"You are no good, you are worthless."
And on and on and on...
Its noise is deafening, so reprehensible, so hurtful, yet soothing.
I taste the sweet nougat of the dichotomy of my inner walls.
Which beat within.
The heart attempting to heal oneself. To shut out the world of its lies.
Best to stay within the shelter of the winter garden, the sacred blinding white.
To run from the calling of the lion, my great protector.
I will weather this storm. I will choose not to return to my regurgitation.
And when I choose to withstand I will remain.
Transfixed within the storm.
Swirling about me .
Amidst the dust.
Peace shall be found in the center of all that was and ever shall be real.
"God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food."