Call Me Bad-Ass

The woodpecker knocks at our awareness. Are you opening that door?~Bernadette King

I’m lonely and I’m sad and that is fine.
Up before the rise of sun, starry-eyed
and resolute. The planets finally
are turning, constellations cages free

the untamed beast, enraged, suppressed no more
lays waste to good and bad, explores the core.
I’m speaking out, imagination wild
with each pen stroke freeing the inner child

to wail and flail as clear-eyed I can spot
discomfort and allow: perfect I’m not.
My self-esteem and my self-worth are clay.
I start to play, invest in me today.

My currency tied to a wealth amassed
in lucid dreams–and not at all half-assed.
It’s 5:55. I take the leap. Taboos
against the blues, this phase of loss in view.

Inspired by spot, loss, phase, and featured image, the woodpecker who announced herself between bites.

Published by

Victoria Stuart

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

2 thoughts on “Call Me Bad-Ass”

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