I’m on the precipice.
That place where the edge is all I know.
What happened, happened. I can shrug it off now.
And there is a wide gap between this edge I teeter on and what will be.
With a motherlode of gold where a load of black used to be.
And I’m so f*cking grateful to be here.
I’ve clawed my way toward this edge.
I really have.
On all fours ... mostly on my belly.
I groped for the next inch of true self.
Chewed gravel, dirt, and the darkness that wanted to choke me.
I invited them to become my nourishment.
Digested the sludge of happenings that will never see the ‘light’ of social media.
... Actually ...
Someone told me recently that my social media feeds makes it seem like everything been has handed to me on a silver platter.
There are so many ways that is not the truth.
If a silver platter is the same thing as dragging my deadness around for far too long while consistently reaching for truth + beauty with determined focus ....
I’m smiling as I write these words.
I’m smiling because I know a secret.
Crawling, dragging, and digesting desert sand, rocks and dirt are the only way to actually flourish.
They kinda ARE the silver platter.
Gold born from the edge of actual living.
2019 is the year of my edges.
Edges I’ve handed myself on a gold platter by crawling through the lies I’ve always told myself.
Edges upon which I embody CHOICE.
Edges upon which I nurture BEAUTY.
Edges upon which I open my body to LOVE.
Edges upon which I envelop my own self with TRUST.
Edges upon which I boldly embrace what is mine to RECEIVE.
Queen of the Precipice.
Magician of the Crawling.
Watch and see.