I am no longer a volcano.
I am a seething rage of cool existence;
a deep burn, one that ignites the soul.
A liberating flurry of flames,
destroying all to better begin anew.
Two steps ahead of the phoenix,
I’ve already planted the seeds
to help my inner-world flourish.
I am no longer at your mercy,
but gently pressing
against the walls of my own being.
Reappropriation is like laughter:
it bounces off walls,
and its imperceptible power
fills your heart with joy;
a glitter bomb
exploding in your soul.
A Universe unto myself
my expansion is continuous.
I’ve set my mind free
and let the cage of my past
dissolve like ashes in the wind.
I can taste the colours again,
soak up the love in their eyes,
savour the silence…
dance ’till I drop,
scream at the top of my lungs,
fall into passionate embrace,
let my heavy eyes rest,
and do it all over tomorrow.
I can feel the lead of a pencil
sigh as I press down onto paper,
feel the temperature of colours
when they meet, swirl and mix;
and the words trickle like dewdrops,
as they roll off the pages of my mind.
I now remember
the untarnished power
of finding beauty in the now,
the stars, the sun, the wind;
and the radiant smiles
of those who populate my world.
© 2020 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved
as the tides turn
I learn to navigate treacherous waters
a viking setting sail for the new world,
I circumvent the currents leading me astray
due north, ever further…
winds batter my mast,
my hull heaves under the tumultuous disarray
the maiden, beautiful in her purity
protects my path with knowledge beyond doubt
Goddess of a world out of reach of my own
she hums to me, angelic, serene
are no match for the newfound calm
that resides deep within my soul.
© 2019 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved
After a bit of an absence, I am back to try out a new format.
Prior to my month-long writing hiatus, I had been putting a lot of pressure on myself to post regularly and be active on social media to try and promote what I was writing. I was crippled, in a way, by what many people would refer to as FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out). “If I don’t spend time building a following on Twitter, and interacting with the other members of the #writingcommunity, I’m never going to be part of it.”
Well, the truth is, that doesn’t work for me. I loathe social media, and I’m not a natural at it. I believe it reflects the worst of what we are in many cases: vain, sad little creatures, disconnected from our communities and the things that matter, and desperate for validation that is substanceless (like a bag of chips: delicious while you’re eating it, but has zero benefits for your body and leaves you hungry for more 10 minutes later). Personally, trying to maintain the regularity needed to push a following on social comes at the detriment of my mental wellbeing (which then can quickly cause me to spiral and stop taking care of myself on a physical level, like I normally would), which just doesn’t work.
So, I’ve decided to no longer care who reads what I publish, or whether I get likes or shares. It was never why I started publishing my works online in the first place, and I’ll be damned if my social media stress puts me in a position where I’d rather walk away from writing than simply periodically publish something because I’ve felt inspired and taken the time to write something out.
I’m also going to start writing to a new section of my site called “Musings On…”, which are going to be taking on a more traditional blog post (or article format). I am a complex individual, with lots of experiences and things to share with the world beyond just my poetry, and I hope that anyone who feels they can relate to what I choose to write about will find value in my thoughts.
Some days I’m addicted
To the heartbreak,
The hard ache of knowing
I will never be the one.
Writing in cursive lines,
My mind wanders to strange places,
A fleeting moment where my hand
Plunges deep into my body,
To squeeze out the love,
And let it seep onto the floor.
Perilous belongings to the world of the night,
Make light of cold sheets,
And trembling lips.
The shadows unwind upon themselves,
Living in deeper creases
Than the love we share
When you hover near.
A new dawn brings a new day,
Where I wonder why
I ever believed my heart
Could break the stone of my resolve.
Like a child in need of guidance,
I welcome my wary insecurity.
Cradled safely in my arms,
I hush in her ear, caress her cheek
Remind her of the love she holds within.
Weep not for the lost,
For they are not your burden to bear.
Fear not for your soul,
For you are slave to no other.
Bear your love with pride, sweet Lilith,
For to desire the undesirable is simply a sign
That you fear your immutable strength.
You sway amidst the masked dancers,
Never quite here nor there,
Sometimes wanting what you cannot have,
As simply as opposites attract.
But no one will ever love you,
Sweet, darling, Lilith,
Because the greatest love you’ll know
Will always be the one you gift yourself.
Now. Always. Forever.”
Photo by Olexandra Pavlovka – “Self Hugging Project”
I haven’t felt human in a long time
to the point
where I’ve doubted
having blood running through my veins
A search for meaning
in hard substances
and things devoid of substance
in cold sheets
and soft embraces…
But I’ve discovered myself,
deep down, where no one wants to go
a profound understanding
of the duality
that runs through my veins
It isn’t blood that pumps into my heart
but also Magic…
Things yearned and learned
from Goddesses past,
and mothers of the earth,
creators of life and all things.
Like all humans,
I doubt my humanity,
for what does it mean
to be Human in the first place?
© 2018 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved