the floor is

When I was a kid, I was ready for lava.

I would leap from chair to table, rescuing my home from its ashen fate in the heated unstoppable ooze.  It was a game, I suppose, but to me, it was preparation.

When I was a kid, I was afraid of the substances that could kill you in an instant.  The creatures that could snap away the whole of your life in a flash.

Lava. Poison. Quicksand. Kaijus.

Things that took away your chance at survival.

I didn’t know enough to know I should be afraid of survival, too.

I didn’t know I should be more afraid of mouths that mark you for a lifetime than the jaws that swallow you whole.  I didn’t know I should be afraid of the small teeth.  The kind that chomp away in tiny pieces, so slowly you almost forget you are losing yourself.

I didn’t know I should be afraid of the poison that does not kill you.

The poison that sits in your belly and churns and churns, and makes a sickness from a healthy mind. The poison that gives you reasons to die.

When I was in prison, the girls used to say that if the city flooded, we would be left in our cells.  That it’s happened all over the country.  That no one shames a city for leaving its trash out like a sacrifice when the river comes to take. That no one blames a city for letting mother nature weep punishment on those in need of it

When I was in prison, I was ready for flood.

But I wasn’t ready for survival, wasn’t ready to walk out the gates with a belly full of poison and a body covered in bites.  I wasn’t ready to walk out with bigger invisible fears than a whole world turned to ash.

I leap from chair to table, warning people that the floor is lava, or maybe flood and something is eating us in small bites and filling us with death, and there are some locks so strong that we forget the people behind them.

I leap from chair to table, warning that the floor is lava, sweating in the heat of it, aching from the work of it, tired, so tired.  So tired of this same ‘ol game, so frustrated that it still isn’t a game to me at all.

 

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82 thoughts on “the floor is

  1. Yes, leaping from chair to table IS exhausting, especially when you know it is not a game…
    How about a lava protective suit allowing you to step safely on the floor, said suit would have healing properties, thus ending the pains of your tiny bites and flushing the poison away from your insides? Just saying’ How I wish it could be done…(((hugs)))

    Liked by 7 people

  2. My heart goes out to you. Healing for those type of wounds is available at grieftograce.org – I just made such a retreat with a wonderful group of women and their relief was sooo visible in their smiling faces when we parted afterwards.

    Liked by 5 people

      1. Oh, it’s WAY better than that! Everything is always working out for you, Ra. The good, the bad, and the ugly. It is all making you into the amazingly gorgeous creature you intended to become.

        Everything we go through is part of the becoming, whether we realize it in the moment or not. Your wounds will one day be healed scars of triumph; your pain will one day be transformed into the sweetest of joys. Why not today? All any of us have is now, this moment. That past of yours, it’s so gone. Over and done. It need not define you (but it will so long as you continue to bring it forward into this moment and this moment and this one).

        Ra Avis, you beautiful, incredible, stunning woman! YOU are SO. MUCH. MORE than the trauma or the marks those days left behind. Soon you will be ready to leave all of it behind. Your words are lovely, as always, but one day you will find amazing, wonderful, lovely words without any reference to what has gone before. One day your eyes will be on the you that you are becoming. I already see her. Can you?

        You are so loved, as you have been always. ❤
        ~C

        Liked by 4 people

  3. Very well written! I hope you find the same peace i am searching for myself, only i have different reasons. ( never been in prison, or at least not a physical one, but I do feel like I’m being bullied.) I believe we can keep ourselves in our own prisons we make in our heads. And unfortunately sometimes we give ourselves life sentences. I wish you the best… Hope it comes my way too😉

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Connie,

      All it requires is a change of thought, a turn of your focus to the good. Find anything pleasing to focus upon and make it your goal to fix your thoughts on that for as long as you can. You will be amazed at the changes that come!

      You are the only one with the power to change what you see and thereby how you feel. You got this!
      Sending you so much love and light,
      ~C

      P.S. Check out the work of Dr. Joe Dispenza or listen to some of Abraham Hick’s (both have free videos on YouTube). Their work has changed my life and that of many others. Blessings on your journey forward.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Aside from the fact that this is (of course) beautifully written, I can only offer this: the years go by, and we find people who love us, people who will share our raft or our magic carpet and will somehow–miraculously–bring joy to a place that we thought would always be dominated by fear and anger and sadness. ❤
    So many congrats on the Discover-ing!!

    Liked by 3 people

  5. “The poison that sits in your belly and churns and churns, and makes a sickness from a healthy mind. The poison that gives you reasons to die.” This one stood out for me. It actually makes you feel that churn and I can so relate with this feeling.

    Liked by 2 people

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