Confessions of a Recovering Peacekeeper (& Poetic Rampage)

I’ve been calling-praying-working

and downright BEGGING for reprieve!

Where are You?!?

I'm (more like) running pell-mell through the MOODS

as if demons are clawing at my ass!

Only to end up collapsing into rooms where

the Quiet feels like my Chaos is wrapped in the 'craziness' of a straight jacket

FML! I keep the Calm. The code of Silence.

But Keeping the Peace is a pretense

for Martyr of Servitude.

And it's not working!

That is the program that makes peacekeepers look like soldiers.

I’ve built all my boundaries with discipline,and with tip-toe agreements to control myself

I’ve been clean; obedient; and nice.

I hold my breath so I don’t speak too much.

And now I’ve worn out my halo — My sainthood has become boring,

And my insides are screaming for revolution.

And rising within that Curse of Perfection is a BADASS WOMAN.

A raging-glory-spitfire-fucking-bitch!

Who will not be smothered by the Status Quo

Peace — are you there?

Or have I seduced by your fantasy?

Wait? What’s that?

I think I hear you humming...?!

No! I actually feel you hum!

And now? I am purring that melody too!

I can feel the pulse of my longing!

Hmm. Sigh!

Feeling (not forcing?) Peace!

Is that the way home to you?

“Yes," (softly whispered)

"That’s the way.”

Oh Peace! —you were never gone!

You’ve been following me all along!

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