Poem 3 of Shed My Skin: Poems through my divorce era

If my mind were a lotus flower,

It would open one petal at a time

Peeling back my uncertainties first,

My anxieties.

For they stew at the top like foam on a cappuccino.

Vanilla syrup, please and thank you.

Fuck that, hazelnut all the way.

For I’m nuts for keeping myself enclosed like that.

The second petal

of the lotus flower –

My self-confidence.

For that is what sits in the sideline,

Waiting to get queued up

Preparing to strike,

like a black mamba.

Almost too much sometimes.

So much that it paralyzes you

and chokes you up

So much that you don’t know

where to go when you first see it

So much it needs to be domesticated.

But I haven’t learned

how to be mild-mannered.

Not yet.

She shan’t be tamed

until she’s ridden her rides.

She’s having too much fun.

The third petal unflowered

would cause a weight imbalance

The flower would droop after this,

but for good reasons.

The third one –

My inner-child.

The wild, funny bitch.

The curious cat.

The explorer.

The questioner,

The person I have been

and should be at most times.

The one who belly laughs

and it sounds like she’s

going to puke or pee.

The one who knows

the minute details

of movies you’ve not seen

Yet she’s thinking you’re weird

for not seeing them

because they were important to her.

The one who wants

to press the button,

steal the show,

get you all to rock out with her.

The downfall of this petal

is exquisite

She is unleashed.

Now since the flower is now

almost touching the ground,

the fourth petal can be

considered peeled already.

But it isn’t

Because it hasn’t been touched.

And that is her feminine side.

She’s been missing that.

Missing it for a long time.

So long she’s somehow

forgotten it was there

Probably because it touched the floor

and got dirty

and she said, “Hell with it,”

She needed to be the man anyway.

Needed to support yet uplift.

It got confusing.

She’s ready to not be confused anymore.

But it is confusing

And it will continue to be,

until she finds that side and integrates it.

She cannot lose the man inside her.

He’s what got her to the second petal

in the first place.

The self-confidence.

But integration matters.

Soft souls, gentle touches, emotional stability.

Kindness, love, nurturing, growing.

A “Good job making art with your hands,”

goes a long way with her kids.

And now for the last,

but absolutely not fucking least, petal.

The piece for the maniacs.

The one that she’s been hiding

from most people for fear they’d steal it.

It’s the petal up holding the team together,

for it stabilizes.

Yet, it doesn’t.

And by itself,

it can work wonders, baby.

Things you’ve not seen before

but wish you did.

The openness to talking,

The inclination to reach out

and give it to someone in the form of a hug

when it matters the most

The ability to suppress the story about her

and instead ask another question

Hone in on the sixth sense that

the person beside or in front of her

needs to be lifted at this very moment

Her body wants more

but it’s not giving in

until she knows for sure

that’s what it wants

But it won’t ever know.

Because Love doesn’t

know the truth, usually.

It just knows “it.”

And sometimes “it” doesn’t tell the truth,

but it does tell a story

A story most certainly worth telling..