The Child And The Voices

was it my explosion of pain
that blew it all up, in the end?
was it all my fault?

or was it my implosion of me
that made it work at all?
did I lie to myself all this time?


entangled in a tight net of thoughts
I awake in the night
one voice counting responsibilities
a second reciting incompatibilities
a third voice asking: what did I learn?
a forth one telling me to accept and move on
a fifth one judging them all for talking

five babbling voices tearing my brain apart
and from deep within
the silent sob of a crying child


but you NEED to understand this, to learn and do different!
says the one voice
no, you just need to let go
says the other

you’re fucked – with this many voices in your head you’re unlovable
concludes the final voice harshly
you’re doomed to be stuck in your lonely web forever!

and the child is crying


five voices, tonight
and then, that … other, the Knowing
watching, as the voices argue solutions to the problem of pain
listening, as the voices battle memories
to justify what happened
afraid that I was wrong
afraid that I was right

the Knowing looking, as a bystander

as my fear of being stuck in the same repetitive pattern
keeps me stuck in the same repetitive pattern

as my fear of not learning from my mistakes
fuels the battle in my mind
weaving a web of infinite perspectives
entangling me

as my fear of not knowing myself
puts a veil on who I am

as my fear of self-sabotage
is pushing you away

as my fear of being doomed to endless suffering
prevents resolution

the Knowing KNOWS
and in this moment I BLAME IT for not saving me!
for not silencing the voices
so I can attend to what IS, right here and now:

the abandoned child crying
in need of a mother
in need of my presence and love


the voices are our fears
and those who do not hear them are merely wearing earplugs
pretending they’re not there

we ALL have fears

my voices are but distinct streams of thoughts
for others, they are audible
but for all of us, they’re REAL


a few times in my life I have feared falling into insanity
the voices pushing me off balance
safety disappearing beneath my feet
then, suddenly, Knowing pulling me back up on the tightrope
the thin line between crazy and sane, that I’ve chosen to walk
where creativity flourishes
where fears push me forward
whilst Knowing has my back

to walk that tightrope without falling
I must keep my gaze steady
I must put my focus on the only question of importance:

where’s the child
and is it crying?

What do you feel?

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