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I Miss The Passion.

{via Tumblr}

{Photo via Tumblr}

By Karen Whitney LaVohn

I miss it.

The passion.

The overwhelming feelings of a life out of control.

The emotions scalding chasms through my life.

Leaving scorch marks.

Deep pulsing scars.

New channels formed from seething lava.

The intense, addictive, delicious.

Strong-brewed mouthful of new-found love.

Slightly sweet, intoxicating, sometimes bitter…

Never completely satisfying,

but warming from the inside out.

My entire body electrified and alive,

my mind challenged and racing,

more creative than any other time in my life.

The words flowing with joy, happiness, love.

Becoming one with a compatible soul,

losing where I start and another begins,

finding myself in the reflection

of the oldest, strongest vision of humanity.

I miss it.

The heartache.

The overwhelming sadness

that makes it hard to breathe.

The heaviness in my soul

that feels like grappling hooks

attached to the earth’s core.

The loneliness

that pulverizes me

into shards of brokenness.

The intense, raw emotions

that erupt sporadically

in geysers, in trickles, in dam breaches.

Words flowing to relieve the pressure

of emotions too hard to bear alone.

Surprising realizations.

Achingly beautiful imagery.

Satisfaction in the honest portrayal

of things gone terribly wrong

Creativity a necessary survival mechanism

in the slow healing process.

I miss it all.

The highs and lows of emotional turmoil,

the passions that drive me to write

lest I spontaneously combust,

for fear of holding it all inside.

Now I feel nothing.

Like congealed fat,

pleasantly wobbling along.

Not too happy,

not too sad.

Just there.

Waiting for something.

To begin percolating

so I can write again,

waiting for that image

that stays in the back of my conscious thought

And won’t leave me alone until I write it down

To figure out the message the universe

is trying to share through me.

I need to find the flint.

The creative spark,

that I can create on my own,

without relying on unstable external heat sources.

I need to find my internal light,

this little light of mine,

that will not hide under any bushel.

No.

I need to let it shine

with my own power.

Rising up from my inner core,

bringing acceptance,

and light,

and love,

and starstuff

into every fiber of my being,

igniting my congealed layers

of pleasant nothing existence

into a passion for creating

that will astound every expectation

I have for myself,

and light those around me

with an eternal flame

of knowledge.

My true life,

bubbling and swirling,

escaping in geyser bursts

into the universe.

*****

Karen Whitney LaVohnKaren Whitney LaVohn is a mother, teacher, musician, writer, baker, and so many more things. She currently lives in Miami, FL, and graduated from Rice University in Houston, TX.  She is trying to ‘find herself’ through her writing as she goes through her midlife rebirth.

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