A raising

I lean into the chair. Close my eyes momentarily as the boxes in my mind close. All the memories of writing. So much therapy I have been taking.

Those words of mine sinking down to the thoughts of a raising. Child hood steps I took. The trades I learned. The skills I adapted.

Only now mean nothing for I cannot use the meaning behind things anymore, I cannot redeem anyone's hopes with a stone. Nor that of assurances studied through theory.

So I sigh in gratitude of sorts. The confusion of my upbringing, well is challenging. Grateful that the strangeness and battles between families made me feel less and less.

Cold but strong.

Barriers built.

Do you know I still think about how sad I was relying on the knowledge of my balance, chakra and what the stones say.

Yet I still do remember most of the meanings of the stones. Hence why I just can't seem to use them in my work.

Even more so is the purity of the metals. So much I have to forget. Those skills I acquired, mean nothing now.

So my mind gets angry in a way but I know it's for the best.

Still I was taught prayer and there is a God. I believed. Then I learned.

Just right now I miss the bouncy me. Down on a low moment. A soft Mary moment.

So much I have to finally toss from my memories. It's hard. But I am doing it. Slowly.