Candid Corvid Productions

Some say that it is better to be single – and lately, I am beginning to experience some advantages.

But, I have always desired the sense of being in a whole unit family.

Without it, pieces just seem to be missing.

This evening was my first bike ride out to the park and along the river, stopping along the way back home at a little neighborhood garden stand where I obtained a sunburst squash and sunflower seedlings, as well as some calendula packeted seeds.

Once I had met my fiance, I set out to find us a new place where we could have our family.

The journey uprooted me, and I traveled along different paths than I had ever gone on before, encountering many road blocks and difficulties.

I asked him for his patience and to believe in me. I promised I would succeed again and that he could count on me.

And though he left when it got very hard and is no longer with me, I am beginning to feel trickles of a great satisfaction coming because I am finding my groove again – and manifesting.

The long mirror on her bedroom had been there for who knew how long. It was rippled and disorted the figure, making difficult issues seem even more unapproachable.

She decided one day to completely cover it by a long, dark-woven blue and green hued symbol and floral patterns. Once it could no longer be seen, she soon felt her health recovering.

Right now, I’m not perfect.

In fact, I’m all-over-the-place messy.

But, my shoulder yielded this evening.

And another once-frozen muscle reactivated.

If I keep making things more and more simple, eventually I will get to the root of it all.

And from there, I can branch out and excel again.

I finally could hold back no longer and had to state my concern to the marijuana shop over their advertisement. It was funny as heck, and I appreciated the humor, but the message could steer people in a not-so-healthy direction. Surprisingly, the gent behind the counter was receptive – and we came up with a solution!

You have made your choices.

I can no longer afford to care.

When the tension flares up and I am blamed for another’s personal sense of helplessness, it feels like I cannot break free of our past tragedies – and that I am marked as social pariah, forever to be only seen as a survivor

I have the edgings of jowels, now – WTF!

It could be funny – in fact, hilarious – but that’s my skin misbehaving!

The words whispered, “I am not loved,” are devastating.

I was beautiful, gregarious in my shyness, a soul of kindness, and innovating.

But the puppets around me danced to repeatedly crratr thry same scene:

” I am not cherished for who I am – and tbus, discarded.”

I remember when my face fell.

That’s when the first had me.

Then another joined from the pendant.

Then another from the window.

And another mirror.

And then, almost everywhere.

In the camera

At the fairs.

Haunting me.

Warping me.

Lying.

I know who I am.

I know what I could be.

But I can’t be who I was.

They stole my youth.

They took that from me.

All I have now is a new identity.

Wait before you envy me.

I have paid a terrible price.

I was born as if a saint to balance the wreckage of other people’s behaviors; to oust abuses as if I were a savior; and to calm quivering hearts that are tender. I wish that these abilities could work to help my family. But those closest to us do not always want to listen.

My dark side is not pretty – especially when driven into self-defending.

I was raised but a fierce-cutting witch’s blade – so fear me if you think I’m “made.”

Yes, I know you have me.

Maybe from the spells his “mistress” cast.

It makes me mad that he fell for that old trickery.

He had known and wanted better for us once, but then let go of his responsibility.

You are not me, have not had my trials – so do not fear my trials as if they are your own. They are not nor ever will they be.

What right do I have now to desire love?

Why should I accept it if it were to come – now that I am beaten and kicked down to the gutter?

Do not have pitty on me now, oh love.

Where were you when I was bright and hopeful?

When I was on my knees and dutiful?

When I was self-sacrificial and faithful?

When I was valiant and championed you above all others?

Oh fickle, errant love – how you have betrayed my heart’s beliefs and destroyed my self confidence.

I am only remnants of what I could have become had you embracsd me.

When I look into the mirror, I see myself aging. Rapidly. In one year, my hair has gone from hints to streaks of silver graying. It happened after I changed shampoos. People I meet just see me as me and my kid is afraid to hear my distress because they don’t want to get a phobia about aging. But they weren’t listening when I tried to explain what I was feeling. What I am seeing. Something has happened to me. And it got a jump start when my husbsnd left, I had a small stroke, and the Crone laughed as she attached to me that one day when I put on the pendant. The struggle to find and reclaim myself before time runs out is upon me. I have never been here before, and no one stands beside me. Who I am inside is under assault by external entropy. This isn’t aging. It is a spell that’s siphoning energy. Maybe it’s all of the stress that continues weighing. Maybe its the lack of rest while I keep striving to overcome the sense that I’m dying.

Pulled out breach and soon dropped onto head.

It’s a wonder I walk with grace and speak with articulate eloquency.

Nestling into simple patterns so that when difficulties arise, it is easier to address them.

A primary goal for me had been to find my man, have a family, and settle into a life of mutuality and adventurous co-evolving.

Having given my younger decades to this cause, I find it exasperating and disorienting to find myself single and without intention of dating.

I mean, am I just giving up?

Yet, how and why would I wish to invest time in another person who could just change his mind on a whim and leave me in a lurch again?

Like a cat forced to haul itself up a tree, claws extended into scrabbling for traction – then hiss-spitting disfavor on a branch in reaction – I have been alarmed by the ignorant mistreatment of love’s innocent purity by the world.

And I am not pleased.

Perhaps I am still doing to much.

Perhaps I must further do less.

If it is true that I “did everything right” in positivity, then I should no longer accept responsibily for others’ claims that I caused harm.

A scholarship notification came through my email today with tomorrow as its deadline.

It is sizeable enough to grant me 5-6 units, inspiring me to attempt to obtain it!

When a huge truck rumbles aggressively as it speeds past me, I find that I have a reaction of anger at the driver’s obstinant blasting past the speed limit along residential and school zones.

I thought that I just very much disliked the willfulness in lawbreaking being conveyed, but now I wonder if the large and loud noise suddenly growl-rumbling so close to me sets off my alarmed reactivity.

Some say that there are none to Truth.

But there are many, and what matters is honesty.

Our garden in pots can at first look a bit skewn about. But as the season weathers on, more seeds planted and mulch convering placed over the potted soil’s surfaces will make the whole display seem well cultivated.

For as much as I could stay in bed, it seems that I rarely get to indulge in doing so.

I have refused to let myself succumb to that depression I intuited was creeping around hidden corners.

But now at 2am, it feels so wonderful to lie down and let go of gravity’s struggles.