cycles

squeezed between
tears
and
laughs

swinging between
music
and
silence

begging for
no
words

terrified by
new
openings

no more
inscape

out
it
must
be

today
tomorrow or
the
day
after

little claire

yes I have found her in a dark basement, confused, hurt, not trusting, yet having made this place hers and being as comfortable as possible in there - that is in between the time she got abused...

here she is...

an eye opener...

torn to pieces
excrutiating pain
of not being met
of not being loved
for no other reason than being me

ego2 goes to war
inviting anger
letting in resentment
for no other reason than avoiding the pain

imprinted into each and all cells
my body remembers
screaming with despair
willing to accept anything
for a promise that the pain will go never to return

the well's wide mouth's
showing its cold darkness
i know its slippery sides
no where to hold onto

falllllllllllllllllllllllllllling
back in time
the separation is ancient
the pain is real and present
no escape but to feel

ego1 comes to the rescue
loving presence
allowing the sobbing
welcoming the tantrum
of little claire re-living her most painful wound

separation re-enacted
with love, respect and gentleness
making it more painful
for the lack of ennemy

two stories
gotten mixed up
letting go the Ancient
opening new eyes to the most recent

two stories
tied to one another
for now
untangled tomorrow

story of little clairem

Tonight and most of today, "I" has been a worthless and anxious little claire, feeling abandoned, longing for an answer that is not coming and making up all kind of stories, postponing deadlines to give him one more chance and try to find some peace. The fact that I am checking hopelessly my inbox every 3 seconds prevents any kind of peace to settle though..

Yet there are moments when I can centre myself, remain with little claire and love her, reassure her and make her feel how worthy and loveable she is. It lasts the time it lasts, usually not very long and it is an ongoing and endless process. Or so it feels... Yet after a whole day and a long evening at home (been back since 5pm) I feel that "I" is changing. Little claire is still very close by but she's no longer my omnipresent centre. As if the love had been enough - for this time - and she could accept to grow, come out of under a dark, wet blanket of shame (= I cannot be loved) and finally separate the longing and the anxiety...

I still want to see him but I don't feel crushed by an overwhelming need to know what's going on in his head. At the moment it's more like "i'm looking forward to hearing from him" than "i can't wait and this silence is killing me"