Posted in desire

Deja Vu

Deja Vu  She fought old habits  with an almost perfect record, suppressing the desire inside her stomach with the willpower of ignoring nausea, swallowing until the feeling abated, closing eyes until the chunks receded, breathing through each moment and winning.  All it took was a single lapse in control for the sickness to rise and remind her of how it felt the last time she fell and his touch and in that second of concession she made the mistakes again in characteristic progression, a single sliver of time to lose herself and everything she’d worked to change.   —Leanne Rebecca

My biggest life advice at the moment is to try not to overthink everything. Easier said than done, I know.

Have a splendid rest of your day, friends.

Love,

Leanne Rebecca

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Posted in art, poetry, writing

Under the Influence

Under the Influence  I wept her poems from my eyes ink mixing with freckles  wandering the hollows of emotion sewn in the simplicity of her voice.   I read them again cross legged as still as silence steeping tea turned bitter.   Nothing made sense anymore the eruption of water the knots in my shoulders the unmoving air the last page of a masterpiece, finished, the anticipation of change the waking up the next morning in the same position I fell asleep.

This poem came out of nowhere. I was taking a walk, imagining stories in my head, and it just hit me in the face.

One of my friends lent me Ararat by Louise Gluck last week and I think it changed my life. Everything looks the same from the outside–same job, same breakfast foods–but something’s different, even if I can’t articulate exactly what that means.

I don’t usually publish poems at night. Sweet dreams and thanks for reading.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Adaptable

Adaptable  We ran in the rain even though our shoes squished and hindered,  pounds of excess burden laced around soggy feet as if trudging miniature water tanks below the ankles, trapping our freedom to move with agility, with ease.  We could have called it quits, huddled under a tree  until the torrent dissolved into a drizzle, could have cowered in our car, prissy as teacup dogs afraid to get their paws wet. But we ran, laughing as makeup stung our eyes, rendered blind, black dripping into our vision and pooling below in raccoon masks.  Sure our pace slowed as our intention adapted— just keep moving— but it didn’t matter, just like it doesn’t matter that I had to eat a different kind of cereal this morning, choice robbed by an empty box.  We crossed the finish line together. I don’t feel like this poem belongs to me. It belongs to my mom and my friends. It belongs to you and your struggles. We’re all in this thing called life, living parallel to one another, at times crisscrossing paths as we do our best to navigate the turns. I implore you, don’t lose sight of where you’re headed. Sometimes eating something new for breakfast can be a welcome change. The key is to recognize the opportunity to seize the deliciousness of the moment.

–Leanne Rebecca