Debris

Lately, I am a volcano. I listen, I stand, patiently. Yet I am bubbling and boiling deep inside, waiting to be heard.

volcano

vagina

 

volcanic eruption

vaginal expulsion

 

explosion-

of darkness?

of debris?

but what is debris but bits of substance left over, scattered?-

evidence that something has broken free, fragments of wreckage?

but today I value broken.

I find solace in letting loose something that no longer has a place,

I find acceptance of needing to break, to become anew.

 

I toil, holding onto the thread

the thread that weaves newness every time I have the chance – to swim in the earthliness of the dark.

I am careful to always pick it back up if within the darkness I lose hold.

 

I spew ravage, I spew chaos and fire and out of control feelings so I

can

build beauty back

up each time.

 

it is so refreshing to think of the volcano.  One must go deeper, past the depression, compression, to that lowest point where only the truest form of joy can be found, found among the firey depths of the volcano.

You must get to the deepest point of heat and darkness to know, to gain the momentum needed to explode out with full force

– grab your thread on the way!

Once you have reached the highest point possible, the only way to go is out – so you expand, far more vast then you thought, and you make a mess of things, but this is good.

This reminds more then yourself – it reminds the other- of the trueness that comes from hitting the deepest point, of the “destruction” that comes after the most rumbling, rocking, deep point we’ve all, ever known.

You hit the bottom and flow back up, the mess is not the debris, the debris is the result of realness oozing out despite the aftermath, despite the “consequences”,  this is truth.  but only you know this.

Together we pick up the debris,

blooming beauty

and this is where community starts, in the cleaning of the spewed wreckage, handling the debris, weaving the destruction.  This is joy.