Efflorescent Memoirs

Been a month since I moved in. Ain’t been able to create, yet. Not even a lesson plan. Not even a poem. I don’t like this but I can’t do anything about it. All I can do is trust the process. All I know is: I am going in a different direction. Everything is new. That is why I cannot create like I used to, what I used to, how I used to. You cannot do anything you used to do if you expect to elevate into a new. I have already elevated. I am here. But I am not comfortable yet. Maybe that’s why I am still actively trying to fly instead of letting myself levitate while I am here. There’s a different between being present and allowing and being on autopilot. I’m neither, though. I’m doing so much work trying to stay high up here, that I am not even able to produce from the clouds. No rain. And without rain, nothing I planted is going to grow. Was I better off remaining in the dark? Under the dirt? Am I tree? Or a bird that was birthed on the nest my mother made at the top of the trees? Is th…

“Get me out of here!!!”
She couldn’t think of any other words. Nothing made sense. Nothing seemed right. She was afraid. She couldn’t see the light. 
“Get me out of hereeee!!!!!”Still screaming and gasping for air. She could see every one else but they couldn’t see her. They couldn’t hear her. They didn’t know her. They know the woman she was today, not the little girl she truly is. The little girl who was killed as a child, and to talk about what happened, was to relive it. To admit what was done, was to ask for it again. To think it was wrong, was wrong.
She was still alive deep down. The little girl. 
Screaming at the top of her lungs. She wanted to free herself from herself. But the woman whom she had grown into would never allow her to speak. Silenced her. Because to hear her, was to hear the echoes of the pain she locked away... buried. And threw into the deep.
No matter how low it sank, it was still there. And the little girl could still feel it’s vibration with every blink. 
Feel it…