Herxheimer Reaction

I leave my bed

absolutely miserable,

hosting my inheritance

my mother’s sick headache

at my temples, this pressure

from heavy low-hanging clouds

from unexamined beliefs

from work that needs to be done —

honestly, an easy task

shining a light

on these murky places

that make me curl up

and deny.

It’s comfortable here,

I realize, my habitual train

of thought chugging away,

never managing to make it

up the hill, but trying

so damn hard

efforting.

Until I finally sink into child’s

pose, letting this weight

bear me down

wear me out

pending

new breath,

a balmy breeze swirling

incense of sacred cedar.

The uniform pains become presents,

the muck a gift.

Resistance the uplifting song

love’s precision:

focus right here.

Simple inclusion

of all the confusion,

I don’t wanna,

maybe later, I don’t feel

good.  All the toxins

stirred up and fighting

as they make their way

finally past the obstacles

that held them in place,

sailing out of my body

as the snow begins.

The pressure easing

all around

as I repeat: I am wealthy

beyond belief

moving into

my new

narrative of love. 

Inspired by: Balmy, Cedar, Pending, and Uniform

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Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

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