“The Glory Days—6 Ft Above” - khat

“The Glory Days�"6 Ft Above”

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I wanted to write about my miscarriage�"those 10 ¾ weeks of bliss�" those moments of pure ecstasy where, the smells of the universe and its earthy brass undertones were nothing more than amplified sound beats that would suddenly overtake me with the songs of the sky… filling me w the sauna on the sun, causing me to walk out into our garden and sit on the swing and just breathe in the atmosphere permitted by our Lord--

I wanted to write about it because… I think it’s time to let it go�" the movements of pain, the mental torture that I had endured during those beautiful 10 ¾ weeks in my home�"but all w the hope that once I do, everything will set back into its rightful place once more as it had before those events that transpired and provide a sense of closure my heart never received-- to address it and assess it and move on; to let the painful parts go into this poem and out into the universe… hopefully helping someone else in the process-

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I never had my 8-week scan, or my 6-week scan�"I didn’t know anything at all about carrying a child-- who could I have told; nothing was the same from the moment I stepped back into the house�"nothing would ever be the same ever again, and I knew that [and I still believed that it could’ve all worked out, but I was so vain].

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From that point on, I was alone, nobody to help me cope through this period of my life�"all I had was icy glares and being iced out and mentally exiled by the people I called family, whom wit hi shared blood; the illusion of a perfect family, family being revealed to me before my very eyes… it was at this point I realized something wasn’t right… something didn’t feel the way it should feel�"I was by myself, it was me, my unborn, and the world�"

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I didn’t know when to get a scan, I never researched what happens when you get pregnant…

I didn’t know…

But I did know that this baby that was inside me, knew that it wasn’t ready to come out yet�"not while I was still in that house, the one I’m in right now…

I’ve already said my goodbyes. I’ve touched all the walls and said my farewells…

This house is taken care of�"the people in it�"not so much… not close by a mile.

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One thing you must know�"as a poet, or poetess�"my poetry can sometimes literally save me�"they’re prayers when I need them to be, and I really need this one to be a prayer…

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I need it to be a prayer of hope, of light�"of peace and ease of mind, of oneness and unity, of divine intervention and higher power�"I need this one for myself…

I need this one for those that can’t speak for themselves, those whom blood run cold in my veins, those of whom have been killed or exiled by their families for speaking their truths�"

I need this one for the martyrs and the rebels, the stock-stiff ethereal empaths, and the wiccans; the pagans and all the variations of woman in closeted power- whose power has been stolen from them- those that defy, or, trying to defy their realities right in this very moment…

I need their power now…

So that we may grow form the hurt and become better people than we were back then…

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I[‘ll let this one speak for itself

Author's Note

I've started tagging each alter that writes a piece...

been logging my switches

taking control of this disorder and not letting it take over

things are slightly better