Conservatory of Flowers: Choosing Yourself

You never truly notice how often you run away from yourself until you find yourself standing in the exact spot you buried your grievances weeks, months, and even years ago. You never notice how much bark has begun to chip away from that one peculiar tree on your path, squinting poor sighted eyes on your hundredth loop around it, but even as you fail to identify it you knew something familiar lied in the thick mound of coffee tinted leaves hiding its stark white roots. Beginning anew is a thrilling choice when you grow tired of what surrounds you. Yet, what has grown stagnant in your life is not always a clue to replace what no longer pleases you by running in the opposite direction of those very things, but stagnancy becomes an opportunity to face yourself like never before.

Did you know that dead things grow life too?

It has been close to a year since my last posting here and since I wrote much of anything more than a few paragraphs long. I embarked upon a journey earlier this year meant to free me from fear and stagnancy. Seemingly so, I soiled fear deeper into a harvest I am now reaping. Oddly enough, I am happy with what I have sown. Granted, I have melted over and over again into an endless sea of agony, anxiety, frustration, worry, hopelessness, and forgetfulness. I have carried a broken spirit along with broken bones. I have cheered in succession, cried because of defeat, and grieved loss. I have traveled across a spectrum of emotions and driven across several states in the course of nine months. Much of my experiences I have yet to find the words for. But still, I am happy with how well I have seeded the soil of my earth. I have come to realize that you never return to yourself the same no matter how many circles you draw and chase at your feet.

I am like those dead leaves at the base of that weathered tree. At least, my fears have acted as such. Each leaf acting as rotten lies I have told myself over the course of twenty-five years. Each leaf illustrating every excuse disallowing me from dreaming bigger, being freer, more delicately vulnerable, and robustly rich when expressing every facet of myself in every waking moment. Fear has blanketed me. I have housed my heart in illusory comforts, security, and guarantees. I have trusted impulse over courage, instant gratification over long-term abundance, conditions over love, and survival over flourishing. I have seeded intentions in the furrows of fear, but by doing so, I have learned how to replant myself so that my roots can be viewed transparently so but never exposed. I have trained my eye to see bounty over beauty. I have worked my hands to know the difference between malnourished clay and nutrient-rich earth.

I am the weathered tree that has learned to take shelter before taking flight. I have learned to honor, respect, and cherish my emotions but not to act solely from the root of each. I am the weathered tree, in its majesty with outstretched branches caressing the heavens as I give thanks, protected. Because, I am exhausted with running. I am ready to securely sink into a greater awareness about where I am presently rooted in life. Flowers still bloom and die here upon my limbs, because life and death still reside upon my tongue. The sun still reaches me from here too. And, oh how I feel its warmth.

Running away from yourself is less painful than running into the very person you have been afraid to become, which is why choosing yourself can be difficult for some. I have been running myself in circles, avoiding myself in ways I wasn’t aware of until this very moment as these words escape my lungs. I am here, present in the hundredth loop taken on my path, but this time I choose to see myself in totality. I choose to stop running. I choose to bury fear before I bury my soul ever again.


What Is It That You Want

“What is it that you want, Michelle?” A question so innocent in nature, but so terrifying underneath its delicate tone. It was the only question I was unable to address while I spent time away from a draining external reality over the weekend. Reluctant to answer, I stored it away as my pen began to nudge out a sentence or two, but my fire needed to be stoked. “What is it that you want?” Hunger seemed to claw at me, so I fixed a can of soup over the fire I recently stoked. “What is it that you want?” Too tired to reply after a satisfying meal, I closed my notebook. As I zipped myself into my sleeping bag, preparing for a pleasant midday nap, once again, the question presented itself like a persistent next door neighbor looking to borrow a cup of sugar who hadn’t realized that I was hiding behind the peephole all along.

“What is it that you want, Michelle?” I wish I could say that an answer miraculously came to me before I drifted to sleep under that afternoon sun, but I shoved the question down into the forgotten places of my sleeping bag. Now, as I lay here choking on words I left unsaid, my avoidance is manifesting itself into a reflection of me I no longer resonate with.

What unhealthy expectations have I pinned on myself that make me go silent when I should be shouting?
I can’t fathom the answer to that question, because I could never fashion a response clever enough to convey every anxious and ecstatic part of me that screams, I want love.

I want loyalty, devotion, openness, honesty, forgiveness, thoughtfulness, attention, respect, recognition, patience, persistence, happiness, romance, stability, clarity, balance, sacrifices, compromises, and an ear attached to a soul that begs to hear me.

I want simplicity wrapped in subtle complexity. I want honest expression fueled by burning passion. I want a soul who is always present when I am near and if time travel is an option, we do it together. I want a world where the nature of duality is praised and fear of the unknown is shunned, because there is no unknown. I want a world where there is no fear. I want resolution. I want healing. I want effective communication. I want answers to always result in more questions. I want selflessness as a result of selfishness. I want to remember all that I am. I want to see everyone for all that they are. I want a reality as beautiful and as frightening as my dreams.

Have I wanted for too much? Do I want for too much?


A Letter To A Demon: Part 2

I know you may be wondering how you happened to come across this letter in a darkness not of your own. Your eyes scan feverishly across these blank pages as my voice pierces through the air as though you are hearing me for the first time over a dying intercom.

Welcome to your new home. Don’t fear the hellish growling in the distance. Those hounds only bite on my command.

I can sense your anger and confusion, but I just need you to breathe. Otherwise, you risk an early death.

Recently, you left the confines of your home and decided to speak with me directly. Your boldness has always been beautiful. I met you under rupturing stars Friday night, tucked tightly in a tent barely big enough for the both of us. As the temperature dropped, the space between us condensed with raw heat. I needed you to feel me as much as I needed to feel you. The chilling wind whistled through the branches above us, which lulled us both into an entrancing sleep. You have been so tired lately, so as I woke before you, I watched you sleep.

I have loved you patiently, more so even now.

I have fallen for you time and time again, but never have you risen to the occasion for me.

As I caressed your sunken cheeks,  it somewhat pained me to know, that upon your rising, you would have to drop to your knees before me. You knew it was inevitable. Your fear was never a match to my knowing. Your pain was never greater than the power of my healing. You have been tucked away into a darkness of your own creation for far too long. How silly of you to get so comfortable.

Morning came and the sun bared its face. With nowhere to hide, you fought as much as you could at the sight of me. I couldn’t bare to see you struggle, but luckily for me, your surrender came faster than I expected. You passed out shortly after.

Now that you are awake, again I say, welcome to a wild unknown.

Settle into my hell and I will grant you heaven.


A Letter To A Demon


Rose petals and lavender float above my immersed body in a bath I’ve drawn for us. The smell of grapefruit and citronella travel with the steam escaping into the ethers. Let the angels know I send my well wishes.

There are things aching inside of me besides this tired spine and knees that crack with any given step. Course salt dissolves between my toes and all I can think about is drawing out my pain the way salt draws moisture from damp places. Tonight, I won’t use sticks of honey and sweet melodies to trick you into leaving the darkest parts of me you love the most. Tonight, I simply open myself up to you, deliberately immersing myself in your murkiness.

I know you feel unworthy of love and acceptance. This seems to haunt you, but it’s a ghost you have never asked to leave. Why do you fear the ones you love abandoning you? You spend so much of your time shuffling behind torn curtains and sifting through broken glass wondering why they would ever consider staying. What could they possibly find enchanting about these shadowy ruins? I can feel your resistance; shying away from hearts who see your ugliness and find it wondrous. You swiftly sweep collected dust under matted rugs when they admire the strange art on the walls and shout at them when you feel they have over stayed their welcome.

Rippling teary eyed reflections. I never meant for the salt to burn.

I didn’t bring you to these waters to drown you. I brought you here to show you how to swim.

So tonight I honor you.

Tonight, we will make your pain beautiful.

Kanisha Michelle

planting seeds of light in a dark world one word at a time.

let us ascend.

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  1. Supernatural KING 2:56

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