Metamorphosis

 

butterfly

Natural causes, supernatural destiny

the birth of beauty in its truest form

pain staking discomfort, transformation

giving up, letting go, stepping in to isolation and darkness, powerless to natures chosen path

resignation that this body, this perceived dwelling of self no-longer serves that but the hungry bird, just a morsel for hungry souls

in the damp, unknown and unfamiliar

Metamorphosis

Upon birth the butterfly is simply waiting to be born

-Alisa Hutton

 

Pan-dem-ic

park

pan·dem·ic

/panˈdemik/

adjective

  1. (of a disease) prevalent over a whole country or the world.

This was never meant to be a page to write about this thing called, “pandemic”. It was meant to be a place for poetry. Where thoughts and feelings flowed like warm water over delicate hands. It was meant to be a place to reflect summer love and the scent of honey suckle and all things fluffy and nice. It was my sacred space to be a writer of weirdo proportions.

Here I am. Here we are. COVID-19. Pandemic. There is nothing poetic about either of those words (or realities). Truthfully, today I hate both words. I don’t use that word very often, hate. As someone who writes words are important to me, so I don’t like to use the word hate. It is harsh, unforgiving and jagged. It hurts but I truly and with much sincerity hate COVID-19 and this god forsaken I don’t even know what to call it besides, pandemic.

It all seems like a bad fucking dream at this point, one that I can’t wake up from. I followed it from afar, discussed it with my friends over drinks after work, lightly talking about how scary it was. Total and absolute ignorance when I think back on it now. In my mind it was a long flight away, in another part of the world. I see now, I was apathetic to the reality of it. It was already knocking on the doorstep of almost every country in the world.

I have lost track of time. I know I started a new job on a Wednesday and by Friday my boss was discussing that we might have to work from home for a few weeks starting the coming Monday. That was I don’t know how many weeks ago. I do know every day has felt the same, progressively worse actually. I get up every morning and think “today, I am going to have a good day”. By dinner I have usually questioned if I can handle things and my ability to cope, have cried and usually become totally enraged by something. All extreme in feeling and nature and not who I am on a “normal” day. It is wearing. I toss between desperately searching for gratitude as I feel like an absolute douche bag if I don’t or I just want to call it like it is and be an absolute douche bag and drop f-bombs in the hope I will shake this god forsaken feeling of groundhog day out of my system.

I stopped watching the news, I have to, I can’t handle it anymore. My system is on overload. I am someone who knows how to deal with system overload, and I am not dealing with this well. This concerns me. I don’t feel like I am being a good employee, a good mother, a good friend, a good anything really. If humaning was a class I would 100% be failing right now. For Christ sake I can’t even seem to consistently take a shower and brush my teeth these days. I just wake up and think, why? I have lost all sense of purpose in my life. I hate it. I hate COVID-19 and this thing called “pandemic” can kiss my ass.

I wonder, maybe this is the gift in this bullshit (sorry for swearing so much, it makes me mildly feel better). Maybe, I am supposed to take this unbearable discomfort and do something with it, like feel it? Maybe I am supposed to question it? Maybe I am supposed to remind myself of all the things that I am missing so badly, what I wish I could do, the hands I want to hold, the people who I so desperately just want to sit in the same space with and squeeze their face because I love them and miss them. Maybe all of this is here to clarify what really matters in our hearts? Or maybe I am just losing my god damn mind. At this point, both feel equally possible.

I don’t know the answers. I like to believe that everything happens for a reason and the greatest gifts we often receive come during or after going through some of our most difficult times. Maybe I just think that because I need to in order to stay positive and move forward? I don’t know. I don’t understand why a whole world must go through this collectively? Maybe we all need to learn together? I don’t know. I write when I don’t understand because it is the only thing that slows my brain down. During times like this, to me it feels like everything is painfully slow but my thoughts and feelings are screaming, competing almost to sort things out and make sense of this total an utter bullshit (which I don’t understand!). I like calm and order in my world and I like to understand things, it makes me feel safe. Right now, none of what is going on makes me feel safe.

I know how shitty I felt today. How incredibly hard it was to muster up an ounce of gratitude for anything. How hard it was to talk myself in to “everything is going to be OK”. I didn’t’ smile once today, I didn’t laugh, I didn’t think “oh gee I am really looking forward to that”. That is a horrible feeling. So, I wrote to try and shake off this shit thing called “pandemic”. I figure someone out there is probably feeling shitty too and it makes me sad because I know it sucks. Sometimes knowing someone else feels just as shitty as you do helps.

I don’t understand all of this. I do know it doesn’t make me want to write poetry. Who knows maybe by the end of it all we will find something more beautiful than poetry because of it? I hope so.

Thanks for listening.

A.

Perfectly

tea

The dance between dusty thoughts and childlike giggles

Dark skies while sipping on my pain

Simplicity is savored in a porcelain tea cup, it’s a Bergamot kind of day

Paralyzing grief served on Friday’s plate

Numbed by uninhibited dancing on Saturday with a random fake

The day will dawn

The night will darken

Who I am in this moment

With just one sentence

Is perfectly forgotten

By Alisa Hutton

Tell Me

Untitled design (10)

When did scarcity roll over you, wilting you timid and fearful?

What darkened childhood tale shadowed your lightness and spirit, giving away your bold?

Who changed you so short that your worth became socially outsourced to the new and unknown?

When the sun rises it reminds us with furious beauty that moments are spectacular. Well thought plans, penned goals and shiny thoughts trivial pursuits of those who will never grow.

The rain that drenched you with indignation, coming unannounced on a summer day? The universes way of tapping you awake to all you never will control.

What happened between the first moments your eyes opened to the universe to where you stand today? Unable to muster the courage to stutter the words your heart desires, I miss you, I love you, please don’t go.

Our heart and our soul intuitively tells us when we are home.

An unspoken settled place is our being, a warmth, a person who undoubtedly many lifetimes we have known.

Tell me, when did scarcity roll over you?

Leaving you all alone.

~Alisa Hutton

Inconsequential

pressed

Sprinkled thoughts and sleepless nights

Tossing dreams that roll with words unkind

Hearts and hopes furiously left undone, once escaped, forever gone

Such curiously fragile those pressed memories we carry in our minds

What was real and what was not?

Inconsequential stories of the breath of love and when it is lost

~Alisa Hutton

Ordinary

dog

I wonder if we are all just living our eulogy

Tales we tell of love and warmth, purpose and valor

Personality spikes sprinkled with dramatic deplore

Is there such a difference between dog and man beyond the years we roam

Egoist form, primped faces wearing tailored clothes

I tripped on humility today

Landing on realities declaration

Extraordinary we are

Only in the moment we are born

~ Alisa Hutton

A Little More

Dead Mesquite Tree - Mesquite Dunes - Death Valley, CA - Infrared Black & White

Life’s misconception

Death creeps in to our soul taking hold in the shadows of our night, darkness

A thirsty and unannounced fog that rolls over us in toxic devour, swallowed

Such delusion.

Death is;

Silently announced at birth with our arrival

We all know yet none of us dare utter “welcome child, live well, die better”

Good form of the socially polished adorn birth with silver and plaster smiles

Never to speak of such discomforts such as limited time

After all if we speak of death we may invite it closer

Lean in. Listen. Hear. Shout. Understand.

You will depart

Death is the last name we all share

Welcome my brothers and sisters

Death is the commonality of our family tree

Death is not a secret or a toxin of devout proportions, nor kept in the shadows of our night

It does not search out in thirst or darkness, mine or yours

Death is a gift of knowing that we all seem to ignore

Simply telling us

Live well and love a little more

~Alisa Hutton

 

Illumination

sad

Look for them

Notice the person who is looking down, see them in their perfect human form

Hold their hand in silent know

The quiet one, who without announcement carries recognizable sadness in their eyes

See them

Nurture their worry in gentle sway, lay with them, sorrow and grief should never be alone

Let their tenderness and vulnerability mirror the compassion you were once shown

Breathe life and spirit in to beautifully tired souls

None of us better than the other, we all have our shadows that can swallow us whole

Let light and dark be the fabric that connects us together

Feel me

I am your sister, friend and mother

Grow authenticity, remove the unnecessary societal covers

They only serve to starve us all from one another

At the end of our life only one thing can be left behind

The love you share by simply being kind

~Alisa Hutton