Brushed Aside

Sometimes,
I feel brushed aside,
swept under the rug,
left there, forgotten.

I find it so easy to stay
there.
Hidden,
collecting the dust
in the darkness of the corner.
Me,
and the dust bunnies.....
we feel safe here.
Under this rug,
here,
where I'm almost forgotten,
or so I think.

I start to move in
and make myself comfy.
And, the memories
of my radiance,
the warmth of light on my face,
love,
and play
and laughter....
slowly slip
away.

Here,
in the Land of the Forgotten,
things get muddy
just when I think
I might be seeing through
clear eyes.
But, I'm only looking in
through a dirty
old window
with a rusty screen
caked
with the layers of
make-believe thoughts.
Funny, how
this
starts to feel like home
when
I've lived in much better
places before.

In the far reaches
of my mind
I wonder
and wander
in a no-man's land
that slowly
becomes real.

I believe in
the real of
the myths of
my mind.
Creating somethings
from imagined
nothings
that somehow bind,
and stick to my bones.
 
And, although I hear the
words sharing
a different tale of
my life and
what is seen....
Do I believe?

Do I believe?
I need something
more
I want it all
to penetrate deep
inside and call
me forth.
Under this rug feels
so real
It's so hard to peel
myself away
and step into
the sunshine on the edge
of my own
unknown realms.

I think I'm a star.
In my hidden back-corner world.
And still,
a meek, little voice
dares
to be so bold as to say....
"Is this all?"

Sometimes,
I feel brushed aside,
but who's doing the brushing
and hiding?
Who gave permission
to let that
story be so?
Oh,

Me, you say?
That couldn't be,
can't you see
that
I want to be more
and bigger
and before
all of you
as my shiniest
most radiant
self.

Just give me a moment
of your time,
your love,
that tells me:
I matter.
I treat
Myself with
a pat on the back
and somehow,
is not the same
as your gift of
connection.

There's noone to blame
but,
that crazy lady
in the mirror over there.
And even so,
a part of me
chose that.

So simple,
Choose something else,
you say?

So simple,
and yet,
I'm fed
by your love
more than mine,
at times.

Sometimes,
I feel brushed aside,
to which I can abide.
But what if,
I was to decide
on something
else?

(MBC 1111 inspirations and musings, November, 2011)