She Grew Love

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Detail of “Waiting for Summer” by Christian Schloe

She raised herself up
one limb at a time,
reluctant to make noise,
afraid to cause a stir.

Each movement bringing
her closer the place
where her courage
was hidden – waiting.

The little fears she allowed
to have so much room
began to shrink and from
the space, she grew love.

Poem by Jessica Grace Sparks

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Seeing Myself as Worthy

The past few weeks I’ve come to realize that I’m way too hard on myself. I never speak up or share my feelings because I think they aren’t worth sharing.

This started some weeks back as I was lying in bed with my boyfriend and we were talking about my hair. For the last 2 months I’ve been growing my hair out. It’s hard since my hair is very fine and thin, but I started to take better care of it and not dye it. So, since I haven’t dyed it my natural hair color has begun to rear itself ugly head.

There, that’s where it started.

I described my natural hair color to my boyfriend as “boring mousy brown”. He looked at me and, before looking back up at the ceiling, said: “I think you’re too hard on yourself.”

I didn’t really have a response.

I started to think about myself; I thought about how I view myself and how I think about myself (and, from there, how I talk about myself). Generally, I am not the kind of person who defends themselves when their opinions are dismissed or their feelings rejected. I’ve convinced myself that whatever I’m feeling is silly and it would be a waste to talk about it.
Deep down I have this fear that I am not enough.

This is not healthy.

After spending days and days re-evaluating how I view myself, from what I think, to how I speak, about my feelings and my body even, I’ve decided that I need to start thinking of myself, my thoughts, and my feelings as important. As worthy. Baring the pain and secretly crying when I have privacy has been my way of dealing with hurtful words (from criticism of my opinions to those of my body). It’s not working anymore.  I need to express my feelings and I need to see myself differently; I need to see myself as worthy.

I am worthy. What I think and what I feel is important and worth expressing.
I am enough.

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Into the Earth

“Secret of the Rose” by Christian Schloe

He watched me dance.
I touched his eyes as they
stepped further into my soul;
the doorway closed to those
who wait for the lock to break.
Barging in, taking away my pain,
he drove his misery into me,
deep down, under my skin,
I could tell my little secrets.

Shh, don’t let them hear my love

You waited for me to come down,
the sky told you to fly away,
but all you could do was cry.
I was already gone, into the earth.

Poem by Jessica Grace Sparks

A Soul

“Wish” by Christian Schloe

A house is bare without a garden and
what am I but the combination of parts.

Some flowers can grow in the darkest of corners,
the roots of natural machines in the ground,
only visible when a light awakens curiosity.

What is it really that defines us?

A body is bare without a soul and
what am I but the combination of parts.

Poem by Jessica Grace Sparks

Jealous of a Spoon

Image via Pinterest
Image via Pinterest

When I am in love I will be jealous of a spoon
Resting between her lips-
Doors, which hold my breath,
(as a captor holds a captive)
Lips, which have the power to
begin me and inevitably,
end me.
A spoon resting there,
Caressed by softness and warmth
After the burn of hot tea,
In the afternoon.
When I am in love I will be jealous of a spoon.
Poem by Jessica Grace Sparks

Empty Sheets

James Abbott McNeill Whistler
Art by James Abbott McNeill Whistler

I don’t know what to do with this.
I have no tangible thing to keep you in,
no keepsake, no box, no case.
You exist in the space that you left,
void and seared in my memory.
When I close my eyes,
I see the freckles of your back,
constellations and roads I would travel down,
my hands and mouth,
adventures for only you and me.
And now as I lay in the sheets,
(still twisted by your body)
I can almost feel your fingertips
and the warmth of your breath on my neck

Laying in these empty sheets, I realize
You are not here and your absence haunts me.

Poem by Jessica Grace Sparks