Fighting a Ghost
Where we Learn to Love
Hello my loves,
It’s been a little while since I’ve had enough presence of thought to put a piece of writing together.
We are living through unbelievable times. No matter the tools used—yoga, meditation, sound healing, (have you ever had a crystal singing bowl placed on your body while being played. The electric current of music runs through your body moving energy, erasing pain? Oh my God! It’s Heaven!)
I’ve also been joy-spotting throughout my days. Yet, somehow, the ugliness seeps through the cracks late at night. There’s a special kind of worry that comes with having an adult child who is vulnerable but can not see his vulnerability. And yet, he thinks he knows everything. He knows just enough to continue making the same mistakes over and over again. It’s like watching him bang his head against a wall, and then he calls to say, “Ouch! This is all your fault.”
Journaling is my therapy for now. These poems are based on some of my journaled thoughts. I hope you enjoy them and are finding your moments of joy during these painful times.
A Ghost
She fights with a ghost
who is unaware of their daily battles
She feels his –his presence
yet, he is not present enough to see her
her pain, though invisible, grows like a snake plant
it doesn’t need much care
until it boils over
a valve opens
releasing cathartic tears
leaving her relieved
Her emotional depth begs—
sit through the pain in its fullness
it will take you where you need to go
A ghost doesn't follow the rules of engagement
blind to himself in the fight
voyeur to her air punches
hearing her words, he wonders
why she’s in pain
It could not be because of me
I'm a spirit she can't see
the cause
-his action or inaction
—affects her
What does it mean when you look into the mirror,
but you’re unable to see yourself?
Are you afraid of what you will find?
You might see the origin of your pain
Is it better to walk around hurting,
projecting the pain onto the ones you say you love now?
Where We Learn Love
Where do we learn to love?
We learn from our first loves –our parents
Was it a healthy love?
Did it teach you that you are loveable?
Was it conditional based on your behavior or theirs?
Were you punitively punished and told it was love?
Did your parent know how to love?
Were they taught
Did they feel loved unconditionally by their first love?
Did they learn that love is pain?
Maybe we need to relearn love from a new, safe, place
The origin of pain in the distance
is not visible to the naked eye
You can not see it.
It's hidden under the layers of years gone by
Being blind to it does not erase its presence
Untreated pain festers
It seeps through your veins
–through your body and mind
Deep emotion is uncomfortable
when we don't know how to love
It's easy to hide behind the safety of what we know
Most men, especially, put their energy where it pays off
in dividends, they can see, touch, and hold onto
natural providers, provide
The fruit of labor is sweet –juicy
It feeds your soul momentarily
It does not, however, feed your heart
What do you do when it stops feeding you?
The methodical mind needs life to make sense
–be predictable
Our world is volatile
It comes hard, fast
from every direction
We can't hide behind the known forever
Do we want to die alone?
Human relationships bear a different fruit –love
love brings pain and pleasure
your garden requires patience, time
–giving of oneself
introspection is imminent
Eventually leaves fall
Suddenly, it's winter
You are cold in your aloneness
You can not hide from yourself any longer
What's under the surface will rise
Spring comes
flowers bloom
luminous, colorful, dazzling
refusing to be ignored
To my paid subscribers…
Thank you! Your support means the world to me. You make me feel valued for the work I've done so long without compensation, including raising three boys to men while losing parts of myself. You are helping this artist live my dream of being a writer with compensation. Thank you for your continued support.
All Subscribers and Readers…
I appreciate you being here to read my words. I hope you find something that brings a smile to your heart.
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This piece felt like walking through a fog of memory and emotion—quietly powerful and haunting. Karen, your writing captures the invisible battles we all carry. Thanks for giving shape to the unseen.
I love being able to read this in your voice even without the voiceover! 🫶🏾 Beautifully vulnerable words as always.