Sometimes I crave oatmeal…
And it’s not that I don’t love the sting of cayenne on my tongue or the zing of citrus engulfing all my five senses…
It’s that I feel things so deep and so strong and so raw that…
Before I know it there’s a hole in myself and I ignore it for a while
But when it starts to burn my soul I have to look around and ask myself
How could this be wrong? And what will I do if I don’t have it in me to change?
Tell me, what do I say to my son or my daughter?
What explanation do I have that isn’t dripping with shame?
I have no self control, no, I mean that literally.
I lost sight of myself and I tried way too hard for too long to deny it, but
I’m ready to heal I’m ready to move on I’m ready to cry it out.
And right now, I crave oatmeal.
The slightly sweet but mostly bland warmth wakes me up.
Slowly and gently and it’s exactly what I need.
The fire is inside of me, there’s no need to poke the flames.
Just tend to the ashes and add some more wood
Then step back and let instincts reign.
Deep breaths and trusting and growing just as intended.
Wild and burning and warm and grounded
And gaining control, just enough so I don’t burn out.