MANDALA # 74/1000 

The Purple Ocean

I close my eyes.
My imagination has always been
a space of comfort.
The purple ocean surrounds me.
I am so thirsty.

How cruel,
to be thirsty
in the middle of the ocean,
surrounded by water
you can’t drink.

Should I take a sip?
Mama warned me,
never drink from the ocean.

What is it you want?
What is it I want?
The words feel foreign.
I’m not sure I know what I want.
I know what I don’t want.
I don’t want to feel this way.
I want to be free.
But I am angry.
Mama, I am angry.
I am angry that
my childhood was interrupted.
I am angry. I AM SO ANGRY.
But I am also grateful.
Is it possible to be both?
I am grateful mama.
But I am angry too.

Mama, mama.
I am angry at myself.
I am angry at MYSELF.
The truth, it is begging to come out.
I am alone with my secret.
I am alone
in the middle of the ocean.

I feel a hand on my back.
One by one.
They are swimming towards me.
Each in their own unique way.
One by one.
They hold on to me.

Tell her. TELL HER. Tell her.
Shame can survive only in secrecy.

My story.
I am not as strong
as you think me to be.
I am not as honest as you thought
I have been.
She listens.
She doesn’t leave me.
She leans in closer.
I feel another hand on my back.
I feel a hand in my hand.
I feel a kiss on my forehead.

They aren’t afraid of me.
They are seeing the real me.
And they still love me.
Somehow they still love me.

Mama, mama.
They love me.

The pain is lifting off my chest.
I feel lighter.
They are helping me
carry the weight.

I am not alone. I am not alone.

What makes life worth living?
It is love.
Love makes life worth living.


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