Drifting

light

Her shell weighted and dry, mite like irritation upon touch

Wearing her ethusiasm like stained, tattered lace

Squinted sofistication beneath an inferior history

Grotesquely adorned with rusted shackles that hold no key

Eyes drawn with the burden of memory

Flickering affect

A gentle hand passing words, supposition of light

Reminded of painted memories of when she once closed her eyes

For a moment her onerous cloak of thoughts drift

A lightness of breath

In the distance she sees it

Happiness

~Alisa Hutton

My Home

door2

I have learned

Many will knock on your outer door

Invite in only those of good character

Your soul is your home, not all need to be welcomed to walk on your floor

My table feeds a bounty of goodness and kind but seats a chosen few

My company, my chosen story, only pure hearts bind me whole and new

Lack of values tossed with miss guided intentions always seem to fall disappointingly short

When people arrive with anything less than authentic, relationships are neither genuine nor true

I have learned to sit in quiet in the middle of my night

To feel uncomfortable dark and my effervescent light

In my dustiest times when I hear that metaphorical knock on the door of life

Intuition speaks of who needs to keep walking and comes with strife

I honor my home and yours alike, welcoming in only those who respect space with trusted care

My heart is precious, only love lives there

~Alisa Hutton

Bottom

bottom2

The swallow of darkness

Grotesquely gorging on your good spirit like a rabid animal

Spitting out your zest for life effortlessly like that tooth you chipped when you were seven

You remember when you were seven, right?

That was when you learned how to tread water

It went something like this, keep moving, hurry up or you will sink to the bottom

So you learned to tread water

Don’t confuse it with floating, you learned that when you were around ten

I believe they yelled at you to lay on your back, relax and breathe or else you will sink to the bottom

So you learned to float

Sink or swim, do or die, don’t ask, just do

That is how is was

That is how it is

I remember that day when you did actually sink to the bottom, looking up through the clear waters at all the people who didn’t notice

Just a little person who was left alone but it came with such clarity

There was something peaceful about it, oddly assuring finally knowing how alone you were

Quiet and serene, finally something so calm and safe

You didn’t feel the panic of treading water or floating any longer

A funny little moment in time where it all stood still

Just you looking up from the bottom

As the swallow of darkness arrives, gorging as it does

Just like that day you sank and how you didn’t see it coming

You are reminded of those who didn’t notice you at the bottom, who never saw you sink

Maybe they never really cared if you did?

The same ones who gave ill advice on how to tread water and float

Funny

As all you ever really needed to know was that you were the only one who could feel what it was like to sit at the bottom

And

It is only you

Who gracefully knew how to rise back up to the top

~Alisa Hutton

Not Much

Not Much

She died inside

She didn’t feel a lot

Just a little more

She wasn’t sure how many times one could feel like this before “this” just was

Continually showing up for promptly closing doors

Only a child, she thought there was so much more

When do others see in her eyes what she can see in theirs?

At what point do they know that this one needs a little extra care?

Timing is everything

Unfortunately for her she has never worn a watch

When you ask her what she wishes for in life

She always smiles and says not much

Isn’t that irony of it all?

Exactly what she wished for

Is exactly what she got

~ Alisa Hutton

Purely Showing

finally known.jpg

There is no mistaking her

She stands poised in a room

Not a plot of land she is interested in buying but could easily own

Taught well, bred better, manicured in good form

Step out of your manners and try to interrupt her wake

You will not be graced with rippling her deep waters

More likely left with a placid polite smile

Two dances she knows well, that of the ignorant and equally, those who are socially formed

She is not the shoes she was told to wear or a princess that lost her glass slipper rushing to get home

Long ago before they told her who she was, she felt she was something more

Her curious warm smile

Seemingly allows space and time to float on its own

A beautiful opening, an almost suspension of the surround

A drag in your consciousness reminding you of home

Gracing herself social pause from all she wished she didn’t know

Her eyes drift quietly in a room full of laughter and roar

Pay attention, for it is during this time

Who she is will be felt deeply in your soul

If you watch with tender sight and gentle ease

Her eyes will speak, no words will be needed

Only a comfortable knowing

In just a glance, a passing moment

Her heart

Purely showing

~Alisa Hutton

He Is

Painted Boat

As a child when the world felt impossible to understand

There he always was

Not one for unnecessary speak but how he loved to tell his good stories

The reason for their start never quite clear but the ending always delivered with loving, insightful touch

Smiling in that knowing way as he does, eyes squinted in the corners

His laugh lines always saying so much

My curiosity as a child, he always seemed to pause so comfortably in the middle of any conversation

Giving every person he engaged deserved thought

At ease with his own mind and soul

Telling our little ears to learn about the ocean tides, when and how they flow

Know when not to be scared but when you feel trouble, work hard for things you love, learn as much as you can, be your own person and no matter what always keep your values in hand

With the most difficult of questions in life there was never any rush

When you asked him in urgency, trying to navigate the heart and its sometimes misdirected ways

His answer was to measure you up with a fishing rod and take you out on the ocean for the day

Silently rocking back and forth in a boat while listening to the lapping waves

He never gave you an answer but you always found your way

He let you be and gave you space, smiling when he was proud

Disappointment wasn’t very often and never harsh or loud

As years went on I came to understand the reason he never directed us or handed us answers in response

He knew the gifts of love and safety, showing us how and where to find our peace

He taught us the answers we seek are always in the calm and quiet

He is my Uncle

I am his forever grateful niece

~Alisa Hutton

Perhaps

perhaps

How do you say goodbye to love, effectively let it go?

Perhaps you don’t

Perhaps you aren’t supposed to

Maybe that is why love is so special

Maybe once you have felt love it lives inside of you until the end of time

Could it be we aren’t supposed to fear love

Could it be we aren’t supposed to grieve love

In my simplistic heart and untethered mind

Love seems to be something special

I curiously wonder

What would happen

If when we found it

We just said I love you

If when we found it

We simply felt

Trusting that no matter what path the love takes

Love will always exist

Love will just be

Forever more

~Alisa Hutton

Love That is Kept

love

The simplicity of sharing, connection

We care for another, our relationship, me to you and you to I

In raw essence a desire to love and be loved

Somewhere and somehow comes the trickle of rigid thoughts

Ego

We are being taught

We are being judged

Sized and sorted for worth

Holding on to our inner most thoughts and feelings

Fear the open and free

Interpreted intent other than love for one another

Simplicity strays losing its way

Lost in care, lost in compassion, lost in kindness

Blinded by our own internal sight of protective rules and historical hurt

Human art covered for no other soul to appreciate or adore in its naked and true form

To be loved

Unique color and fine stroke

Blurred

In quiet breathe one comes to understand that love not accepted, seen or understood is the materialized burden another is carrying on their back

Only the heaviness is carried by all of us

For love not given is love not accepted, the two must dance in mutual fall

It is the complexity of our unique human art

The human paradox

In quiet you will find  the boundless love you have to give and a purity of love you need to burst in full color

The inhale and exhale of equal importance to a genuine life

Complimentary existence for happiness

You will learn that love unlived, unsaid and unshared is the root of human rot

You will learn this particular shade is the only color shared on my canvas and yours

The same fears and vulnerabilities

Yet here we sit holding on to our love as if it is some how wrong to give

Sad as I do believe

Love that is kept

Is never felt at all

~Alisa Hutton