My Fantasies Soothe Me

I was ready to go to writing class, with nothing new to read. I still had several hours to come up with something this morning, yet was feeling ambivalent. I am not a writer, I am a painter and photographer. This mantra swirled in my head acting as a good defense for my resistance. Then as I sat staring at the blank computer screen, something shifted within me and feelings pushed up, demanding to be heard. I was surprised by what came out of me. Do you ever feel like your art, your writing or any other creative pursuit seems to be as if done by a stranger? That's how this poem/story that follows felt to me. Strangely familiar/yet unfamiliar.


My Fantasies Soothe Me

Butterfly wings, gnarled trees, wispy clouds
all circle around me as I float higher into the
atmosphere, far from earth I travel,
away from the despair that sucks me dry
the fears of life as we know it sink down
but I refuse to let it take me with it

I daydream about beauty and magic
and possibilities, choices,
how easy it is to let society pluck us
into its uneasy fingers,
sometimes a path chosen simply
because we know it, uncertain selves
seeking sanctuary, refuge
in known circles.

I want to fly higher, let my wings
beat rapidly into other spheres,
away, so far away from darkness
that threatens to let my dreams fizzle
into nothing
and then I shall once more
be ordinary.

I have been a turtle so much of
my life, staying in my dark armor
safe there, with my voice muffled,
only speaking to myself.

There have been moments
where
head comes out, quickly,
eyes darting around in nervous
energy, then retreating again,
for safety does not beckon
me into the outside.

I am a being who matters, who
wants to rise high to overcome
the despairing muck that inhales
me into its lungs, I am tired
of hiding, holding back my
life, my offerings

that is my fantasy where mystery reigns
for to see reality so black and white
does little to ease my soul so what
choice do I have but to tap deeper
into me, where positive vibrations
wiggle around, happy to be

talked to, to be considered
Denial, my mind says to me
have not you lived that word
for so many years and now
you delve into the fantasy that
used to protect you from chaos
of family long ago,

does society of the now so
frighten you that you disappear
from its clutches into fairies and
woodland creatures who offer
hope to your soul which is
so crying for relief.

Yes, it is a way to survive,
to believe, and I shall continue
to embrace my world for it is
so much more nurturing right now
I shall peek into treeholes looking
for creatures who hide there

I shall pull each petal apart
looking for magic lounging
in each bloom
Not hiding, just seeking
more meaning for me
Content, for now,
to explore my
imagination, whose
fantasies soothe me.