My Toes Are Like Flowers

My toes are like soft limp flower stems. When I move myself, my flower toes move with me.

They move easy, calm and joyous. I let the cement that I’ve known for so long let itself crack to reveal the green and yellow of the the whole plant. The plant that is me. The cement that has held together such a hard truth will let go when it can; to reveal the beauty that is me. 

Soil though, without care becomes hard like cement- no nutrition to be found. The growth to be witnessed in the mirror is blurry. It leads to the question I ask myself, has there been any growth? 

I clean the mirror, I wipe it hard; trying to see the change. Harsh chemicals only make it more blurry. How can I get to a place where my toes are like flowers again? I punch the cement, it only makes me hurt. When did this cement first arrive? How can I get rid of the cement? 

Why do I even want to get rid of the cement? 

And suddenly something moves in me – or I move something in me – or I move myself…? I’m not quite sure. There’s a chain reaction. Suddenly everything seems so simple. The cement is me and I am the cement. But I am also the plant. And the cement is also soil.

My toes are soft limp flowers in stable and healthy soil, moving the wind. As the wind moves me, as I move myself. As my passion moves me forward. As my eyes look to where I need to go, pointing me in the direction that I want to go. 

Letting my eyes lead me; a hard truth that is actually so easy, if I let it be. If I can let myself be me. If I can let curiosity lead me; let curiosity be me.


Chronic pain can be such a back and forth experience. One day everything is fine. I feel free and easy. And the next day, there is a hard. The hard context brings me farther away from myself as I tend to get angry at myself, angry at the world and at my body. My anxiety increases, my depression gets heavy, and I can’t imagine it will ever get better. How can it, especially when I’m so far from myself. 

This is just a pattern of mine. Like all the rest. The trick is to notice what happened before, and what is supposed to happen next. Can i change that, is the question. Can I make the next something new every time. Can I live my life in spontaneity? Can i get hurt and think about the parts of me that don’t hurt. The parts of me that have been resilient throughout the day. Because the pain leads to anxiety, anger and depression.

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