The Flowers Death

fl

Edges curling in, weathered

A depressed muted brown bleeds where vibrancy once thrived

The color of apathy and lost purpose

Quietly spoken, perhaps purpose and possibility were never found

Not all flowers die beautifully

Spirit can fold in, cold and fetal without a sound

Air becomes gnarled, sharply chewing decay in hope

The flowers death

A silent and vulgar unbecoming

Mirroring a life I know

~Alisa Hutton

 

 

Vulnerability

vulnerable

It is without knowing or guarantee. Blindly jumping off an unfelt edge with no assurance of bottom or gentle landing. Faith in its purest form. Looking out in to the night and desperately trying to adjust your eyes to see, all the while knowing the only thing you need to adjust to is your comfort in total darkness.

Moments that carry our deepest hopes and fears in equal measure. Exposed and held in the same open palm, unprotected and offered to another. In shortness of breath our racing mind tries to control speed and steady the direction with a false sense of security. The universe quietly taps our awareness with heightened physical responses, panic, fear.

Reality; authenticity walks with neither regulation nor control of outcome. Hard and painful, joyous and exhilarating in one deliciously sharp bite. It is your mind screaming “be safe”, reminding you of the last time your heart was shattered in to a million pieces. While your heart steadily whispers “trust”. It is brave, strong, tender, humbling and courageous.  The journey long. The destination? True happiness.

-vulnerability

~Alisa Hutton

Empty

empty

There is a misconception that the deepest sadness we will feel in life

Is having to part ways and say goodbye

The loss of a knowing fill, the comfort of another and their warmth in our space

It is a fallacy and the matter at hand is larger you will see, possibly the very thing that will set you free

There comes a time when we see and feel, the most difficult reality to honor and embrace

Well beyond the drain and loss of any goodbye

Is the slow death of watching your spirit diminish and die

Life’s biggest challenge in what feels like human natures longest lesson

We feed our sadness in wish and hope and struggling to let go

But the only thing that matters in our wake and flow…..

It is only ourselves that we must trust and know

~Alisa Hutton

She Reminds Me

in-our-love

She reminds me

I do not fear those of anger or ignorance

I worry not of their indignant beliefs

She reminds me

My strength is in my heart, not in limb or lash of words

Cry, laugh and be

For anything else is societies watered down version of magnificence

She reminds me

Danger is never loving with too much generosity

Danger is being too scared to generously love

She reminds me

If the dust of apathy settles on me, it settles on her

If we stop loving with the capacity we are born with

She reminds me

There will be no hope for us or them

For it is in our love

We are alive

She reminds me

~Alisa Hutton

Wishbone

 

 

storm

Perhaps the heavens opened in storm to remind her of wave

A needed wash of the tides that will recede once more

Discomfort of the cold and wet to feel her warmth

In tired limb and lacking spirit a thought that maybe humanity can be found

Simplicity of connection and trust of those who stand in show

Words of selfish silence seemingly echo in slow

Looking in the mirror she sees us all

Floundering at dusk and rising in hope

Hold on to that wishbone friend, we might have nothing more

Today

She allows the rain and darkness to consume her in gentle whole

With a glimmer of faith

That after it is all done

She will feel herself and walk in stride once more

~Alisa Hutton