I pray that I find the container to hold me
that keeps me safe and holy. My body and heart is broken from the trickle down effect of a terribly broken system run by needing to meet a bottom line whose finish line keeps moving in real time: and what gets throttled around is my body. Is my heart. Shattered. I long for me. I long for me. I long for me. For my Full Body to Come Back to Itself. Because I am creating work that takes care of me. And who will take care of me as a Producer if the Producers are Ragged. If everyone at the top is under the same Mind Control of Body Throttle. I seek my independence and safety with people who will safely hold me. Because I experienced not being safely held when I was told I would be. When I spoke up for my needs. When I receive the Yes, And We Love You For It, And We Will Be Here For You. Where is my Art safe? Is it my fault for opening up my heart when I was asked to? Is it my fault for opening up my heart that wide? For not recognizing that I was not safe? Because it makes me feel like I belong nowhere. And it is a Beating that I take in Silence. So I am coming to save me. The Broken Bits that I can't throw out because they are attached to me. I pray for my Art to be Held as I know it Deserves to Be. As I hold the people who I want to gather in magical ways. It's the very least I deserve: For My Body to Be Met with Safety, when I'm being asked to RIP OPEN MY HEART TO LET EVERYONE IN. So I venture for better. I pulled away because my body didn't make it. But I know the True Power of my Work. Because I know the True Power of my Love. Because I know the True Power of my Heart. Because I know the True Power of my Healing. Because Wisdom comes from Pain. And I was betrayed. And that betrayal lives in me. Still pushing hard against my chest. It burns. I pray for my Freedom of Expression. I pray for my chest to open. I pray for Art Daddy. Because I'm writing to you now. I write to God to hear me. Who knows I'm good for it. Who knows why I'm here and all I have to do is Listen and Trust that what did not break me - though it did break me - was not meant to kill me - though I did die. I am meant to heal people with my work. I am meant to live in the light of my love. My Love which is My Work. And Share that. Share my brave heart. Things have been built on my back after I was turned over and done with - my Vulnerability sucked out of me. And I pray for better Lovers, better Holders, the Holders to be Healed. To hear me when I speak. Because I used my voice and I was not heard. But here as I write: I use my heart. I survive off the Soul Food to Nourish Me - even if I go hungry in my organs for my Heart needs healing. I have a distrust for the Power Hungry. Because I know the cost. I have a distrust for anyone who thrives off my silence. Rightfully So. And so I pray: I pray for the thriving of my Healed Heart and Spoken Voice.
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Diana Oh "Zaza D"
This is a Space Where I Save My Own Damn Life (and maybe even someone else's). All Parts are Welcome, bb. Archives
February 2025
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