I need to try to unjudgingly acknowledge
that I am in a transitional phase.
I’m standing
earthquakingly
between Before and Greater
and the passageway is shrouded,
unclear, uncomfortable.
My words are all wrong,
put-all-wrong, just-not-right
often reflected on later with a frown
that is my futile attempt
to persuade the Earth to swallow me whole
and incubate me through this
weird wordness,
till I can be sure
that I won’t hurt anyone,
or me.
I want to cry, kick and scream
out this strangeness miasma
that makes me make me
feel like an unworthy human being,
unenlightened,
harsh.
But I know my whip of judgement
isn’t helping,
that mutilation during transformation
only kills my spirit
that is rebirthing
Maybe, just for a while
it is okay
to be so painfully human,
so vulnerable,
so raw.
Maybe what comes next is worth it.
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Author: Anthea van den Bergh
Editor: Ashleigh Hitchcock
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