Chapter 2: A Symphony

I sit alone again in the dark.

The trees are lit by a dim lit lamp.
And a soft hum of its dying light
Echoes a song of comfort-
Tales of a young girl on still summer night’s.
Molecules of the air only broken by
The gentle sound
Of words whispered through my bones-
Waiting to be spoken,
Waiting to be unhinged.
From these desperate lips I set a bargain,
Quarreling both heart and mind.
To reach an understanding,
A balance that peace can flow and bind
These sobbing opposing ends
To meet another in kind.
My muscles shake as fatigue consumes
And devours my restless hold
Of what I should let go,
Of what I have no control.
Blisters break and knuckles crack
As the soap is lathered to it’s core.
Wash away the truth
That watches me as I wake,
Watches as I place the shell over my soul.
Alas this tale is old,
And I see the young girl on her stoop
Listening to the hum of dying lights
On still summer night’s.
And ask her kindly how to find her heart again.
Cause she was free, and she was me.
And her freedom I see within,
Now reunited with a long forgotten friend.


Thoughts I redirect:


Truth can never be washed away.

It stays like residue on the skin

coming back time again.

To kiss at the open wounds created

by the resistant mind.

So I say it’s time to withdraw the blade that

keeps the pain.

Let it scab and understand

that truth is freedom,

and it heals our lost suicidal ways-

Of self sabotage we succumb to,

Day after day-

Lifting the veil to see,

No longer herding through life aimlessly.

Chapter 2: In Bloom

I’m at a seat for one- A late night reminisce and smoke. I puff. Watching smoke billow past my eyes, drifting in the lamps light. This is the time for silence. The singing crickets dance, I hear. a burn from flying ash awakens me to the present, I sit. A seat for one. Why I emphasize the number of guests, I’ll tell you. ‘Cause it’s times like these I sit and muffle, ready for my head to burst. The avoided thoughts come racing in at once. Never waiting for their turn, crowding each other to be the one that comes in first. I sit, and I ponder the plithera of hums and bums of what should take place inside this human head, this tired mind. Wait your turn, I beg. And remind myself that tomorrow isn’t here and every step won’t come at once, but over time.

Or is it that I yearn for this silence? To sit alone and stew. A test to jolt me alive- wake up, I urge my avoidant mind clouding over the details of what is right in front of me. To purge through the web of lies, but punched in the face by my want for escape. How easy I think it is to avoid my reality, how easy I make myself believe it is to dance about flawlessly like a ballerina, act after act, whilst my toes bleed. So much effort to hide the pain, to avoid the truth. To go on day to day without acknowledging my spirits embrace of honesty or telling it, I love you. Is this why I sit in the shadows at my seat alone? I think it so. But do I take the bait I give, and head home- I guess this time will tell. I’m writing it so I’m assuming as well.

What is it that makes us dread being alone- How do we go on day to day doing the same thing? How is it we seem okay, routinely walking in the same steps as yesterday. How do you feel at night as you’re about to fall asleep? What are your thoughts? What do you do to cope with your pain? What is it you have taught yourself to believe, I ask myself. Aren’t we all the same? We live, we breathe, we work to pay the bills and keeps our homes, our children eating. We in kind think thoughts amidst our minds all day, and yet we separate ourselves from fear of pain. Pain that another may cause us to feel inside, too far down to where it’s as if we might not survive. Because comforting ourselves seems like the ultimate impossible task, so we blind the truth and betray our hearts with false reality. Say it! What is it you want? I plead inside. Searching. Sitting where no one can hear me, where no one can find me out. So why is it still so hard to be honest when no ears can hear the truth I shout?

I remember sitting on that stoop, dirt powdered on my pants while smacking skin exposed to thirsty bugs ready to quench for their meals. I talked to God, sun waving goodbye to another routy day, pines blackened in front of the receding fire in the sky. I layed my eggs in his basket, because trust I was good at giving, and he I never saw, but felt. I was there, but then I wasn’t. Lost in realms, off to my curious escape. My heart gaped open, always chatting with the things I never saw but felt. Always running away from feeling the pressures of guilt- Guilt I was given, guilt I built. I was there, then I was not. But I saw, and what I could see was farther reaching than what was- In essence, I was free. We packed up and drove home, down the hill back to our coop. And as I walked up to that door I’d grown accustom to, I stared so mesmerized by how my eyes could see. The entrance seemed alive, new life enlightened within me. I remembered how those bulby flowers bobbed and mocked me every step I passed them. But their purple hues rich with vibrant color kissed my tickled tummy, and blew their beauty, warm under my skin. Shall I stop here for a while, and gaze upon this new found anomaly? Why should I be so lucky to feel? How desperate I was to hold its cohesive frame and believe it something real. 5 years young I dawdled on, and played with my perception. Now I see it, now I don’t, and smiled inside to know I hold the key to how I want to perceive and how I don’t. The moment passed, and I walked through that loosened door. Effortlessly swept away from night’s of soiled sheets and crying to mom on the bathroom floor. Her tired hands, I remember, cradled my arms. And I built- again the guilt, unintended, arose from what was out of our control. The bulby bud bloomed and taunted again, but wasn’t it nice to see it once as it truly was? – This memory now triggered decades on, of that long forgotten friend. Her untethered soul’s song. Recalled from a spiralling madness, taking on too much. Scattered amongst vines tangled in attempts of control, over and under I go. How do I start to release the knot that created itself with what were good intentions?

I snap the buckle. You should know this already, I say, as I run to the next necassary task. Herd the children. Good morning, goodbye. Hello and Good night. Will you pick me up in the day? No, baby, not today. Flip the mat over to its cleaner side and sweep up the rinds toppled by my feet. Pull back the cup that did not suffice and drown in the parade of endless fires to suppress and feed, repatching the expectation, the unmet need. Sink into the seat where I feel most free, fingers tightening around the wheel like desperate leaches thirsty for blood to regain any youth I lost. Look down to the sprinkled bags and rotten food wedged barely hidden by the seat and door. I stare at it, front of my mother’s house, not the same but the memory rebirths itself into my mind. Hello old friend. It’s nice to see you again. So young I seemed then, looking back now. But I didn’t feel that way at the time. Who would have thought a 5 year old girl could teach herself how to love 20 years down the road? That’s right- because to love is to let go. To love is to be free.

Chapter 1: The Beast Within

Every day I fight it- I don’t want to be here anymore. It crawls into my mind as I awake. A new dawn and my eyes open, alive still, back from my escape. I wish they could know it’s not their fault. That I love them with all that I am. But I feel crippled by the illusionary expectations of the way a mom and a human being in general is supposed to be. Every tug of the arm, countless and unnecassary, because mommy has to work for us to survive and to ever get out of a full house that turns the tempered poison in her gut. What else do you ask of me? What else is it I need to do? How should I smile? How should I laugh? How should I take care of the children? Did they really come out of my womb? Am I worthy of such a thing? Are they really mine? My own flesh and blood. No. It doesn’t feel that way. But here I am as I slave away like a ghost watching two beautiful souls bounce on their toes. The days, they pass and I notice that my oldest daughter’s legs have grown. They deserve the best. But I feel like I die each passing moment inside to have them. So the best isn’t me. Or so it seems. I cry because I remember being you, how hungry I was for love. I just don’t know yet how to feel the pain to give you what you need. So I tap my thighs to move my hands, I must resist the urge to numb the pain. I must get through this once and for all. Because I am tired you see. I may snap and kill the nearest prey. I am tired of thinking of ways to end my life. I am tired of hiding the fact that I don’t want to live here anymore. I am done “shakespearing” life to hysterical standards of another hurting soul who thinks they know best. Heres a toast to you, you bastard, here I am and I am hurting too. But you don’t know what is best for me. Only what is best for you. I don’t want to hear how life is just hard, and that that’s just how it is. If that is so, the beauty gone, left with the gust of wind, then goodbye. I will be no more. It wouldn’t be worth it to me. Don’t tell me that I have to work my body and spirit into dust, days and hours taken from me to make a living, because then I’ll say again, goodbye. I will be no more. Don’t tell me that all of that is part of earning your “mothers badge,” and to suck it up, because this is just the way it is, and it doesn’t get any better. If that is so I will be no more. It wouldn’t be worth it to me. Every day I step outside, every day I say goodbye. I tie the apron around my shrinking waste and I smile the way I am supposed to. Sometimes I feel the love grow hot from within, and others times I force my fidgety grin. There are times when the cold drips in and freezes stiff the feelings I resist- times when nothing can stop me and I feel like I can actually be the mom my kids need. You may find it appalling reading such brutal honesty from a woman you least expected. But I am tired, you see. And I am done “shakespearing” the expectations of society. I already feel the rot building up inside my stomach, how it eats away up into my chest. Every day more I find ways to soothe the pain. But it always comes back to show me what I haven’t yet stared in the face. How do we do it? How do we survive living off of expectations? How do we live a WHOLE lifetime that way- never truly having our own voice? How miserable that life must be. Let me tell you my story. And please do tell me yours. But for god sakes let me tell you my story.

To be continued.

-Bekah Turney

Search for Summer

Winter prickles my calloused fingers
While darkness consumes the night.
But a lamp hung up not too far
Blinds me with its simple light.
My eyes yearn for the stars
Hidden by the fog that cowers down.
It kisses the cracks of endless days
Of sweeping plans under the rug,
And shaping visions blurred from shame.
Bright and naked
Your light I absorb-
Alone you shine in the daunting haze.
Reflecting off the mist
That barrels through one day
And gone the next.
Can it be so simple-
But a spark you are in silent pause,
Minutely standing amongst the days end.
And you warm my cold eyes
That sit stifled in chains,
To now feel the melting essence of a summer day.

by: Bekah Turney

The Sleez 

I watch them play,
Two hopping love bombs.
Tick, they go
Till mommy hollars
And they explode.
Not an understanding glance,
But my betrayal to innocence.
I watch as their pure life bruises,
Just as mine was pierced some years ago.
I watch the cycle go-
Slipping into insanity.
Is it worth the strength to break free-
As my desperate hands grip tight the restraints,
Infused from generations before me.
A puff, I inhale that artificial joy.
Exhale, it snickers as it leaves.
Cause it’s just another distraction,
And I the sleez.

by: Bekah Turney

Letters to myself

Vulnerability: There is fear in vulnerability, but you will never know how to love truly unless you become that. When you open up, you let go of all the pain that is not serving you. When you let go, the fear you have of rejection diminishes. And when it diminishes, you cannot be effected by the rejector, because you will have learned to love yourself in the process.

Practice giving what you desire to feel of yourself in return. Is it hard? YES. My body shakes, my mind races and I want to vomit- so I accept the bruises that cause pain in me. I love them, because I learn from them.

Let go-

Let go of the winter days longing for a love that later left you. Let go of the hours of love and dedication you gave freely to a man who wasn’t strong enough. Let go of the relationships you lost and gave your time to, they were lost because they weren’t meant for you. Let go of all those you gave your heart to on days like this, with the thick fog in the sky and the branches bare on the beautifully naked trees. Let go of the countless hours wondering where he was and if you were even good enough for him. Let go of the names you picked for your eldest daughter that cloudy day walking down the sidewalk at the complex where you stayed, sidewalk jagged, broken, stubbing your toes, hiding your smile. Let go of competing for his attention and everyone’s attention in general- countless hours, countless years. Let go of covering up his hurt with illusionary love he felt for you. Let go of chasing him that was the wind. Let go of failing a relationship – because it wasn’t meant to last your whole life time, but to teach you about your relationship with yourself. It was meant to heal your wounds, to show you your pain, to kiss your lack and show you, you were and are always whole. It was meant to guide you to see your true worth. Let go of the many walks down the beach where you felt you weren’t good enough, and damn It, let go of hiding your beautiful smile. Look at your talented hands and see they were made for a reason. You are. And your existence is beautiful. Let go of the expectations that hold nothing over you. You have no idea of what is to come. Be where your heart finds it is meant to be. Do what is in your heart for you to do. Let the pedals of your intricate flower bloom into view. Let love guide you, and let love be your driving force for everything.



Sarcasm in Synchronicity 

Remember your roots, she tells me-

To remember the roots that stretch through the depths of me from past ’til now.

From time that is constant and all the same,

Time that slips but still remains.

Remember your roots, she tells me with particular concern-

For there I will heal the damaged ends bristled with pain.

A touch of my care to quench the thirst of love I yearn.

by: Bekah Turney

Roots to Leaves

How we feel about ourselves shows through our every day life: from how we’re dressed, the conditions of our living space, the friends we choose to the very attitude we possess. We display the amount of love we have for ourselves everyday out for the world to see just by how we are living. When you look at yourself, how are you living? And why?

My whole life I have dealt with a feeling of not being good enough. It has been to the point where I only see myself, everything I do in every moment has been judged by me, and I don’t see the world and everyone around me for who they are and what reality truly is. I have dealt with an intense amount of anxiety where I have placed judgement on myself so harshly that I created a false sense of who I am for others around to see as “perfect.” I felt who I really was could never keep up or fulfill the image of perfection that was always “expected” of me to be. From years of this inner torment and abuse I not only created a world of illusion, but I had prevented myself from sharing with others the worth and beauty of my soul I never knew existed until now. I’ve decided to change the way I think completely- I am transforming my roots. Does this stir up any familiar feelings within you? Like a pit that weighs a ton in your stomach and your chest as it cries out, that’s me! This decision is not simple of course, it’s a process, and a process requires patience and, yes, time. But what has only been a couple of years feels like a huge amount of growth for me. And that is from consistency and perceverance. Self growth is possible for everyone.

In other words I decided to take the road less traveled. I felt shame and I recognized it for what it truly was. I don’t confuse my emotions any longer, or make excuses as to why I should keep them forever as my fate, because I made a conscious choice not to. I have decided to do what is best for me- so I felt the shame that has tormented me inside my gut for as long as I can remember, back to my childhood, I allowed it in and acknowledged it’s existence, because it was there and there was no hiding it or excusing the poisonous feeling. What is the point of dancing around truth? Just to dance around it some more and more and be overcome with exhaustion. Or should I set myself free? –

The day I set myself free was the day I acknowledged my emotions AS THEY ARE. How can it be so simple as to feel your emotions as they are? There are times where we don’t even know what emotion is ours or we feel pressured by an emotion we think we should feel. Start with what’s apparent. You angry? Take a second to feel that anger. Then ask yourself what got you so mad. Distract your overtemperment and surrender your self judgement by looking in as an observer and ask yourself questions. Create a sense of purpose for yourself by finding the root of the issue, and possibly try looking at it as a meaningful game for yourself where you play detective and it’s all about you and taking care of your needs. Asking yourself questions is an act of self love. And if you feel like you aren’t there, that you’re at a place where self love is too far off the spectrum for you, you’re not alone. So, know that every act of self exploration taken is loving yourself, it’s a step closer and closer to knowing your soul which in its true essence is love.

Life is literally a playground – a beautiful playground with endless things to learn, and it is through learning how we grow. There is never a point reached in the life we live on earth where we cannot learn anything more. So, then why not play? Why not revel in the fact that we are here for a purpose, to learn and grow into our true authenticity. We are here to find our way back to the core of who we are, that we are all connected and where we come from is the source of all love, the creator, our God or whatever you claim.

What is the point of all this self love talk? Many of us have thought, giving of ourselves and loving others is what God asks of us, or , giving to others is just what I morally believe and how I was raised- so that alone gives us no motivation to look within for what we already have, but all the motivation to look to outward sources for what cannot make us whole or make fit of the puzzle piece that is uniquely made for us individually and that is also separated by us in the first place of our own accord- through childhood and what we were taught we “should” be. Are we giving because we want to help others truly through the love and happiness of our hearts or do we want to be accepted by others? Or are we inspired by both? It is not possible for us to be capable of helping and loving others if we are not right inside of ourselves first. We are all projectors of the way we feel about ourselves. So, loving ourselves is loving others. The more we care and nurture ourselves, the more we do that for others. It causes a ripple effect. When we see the love we are inside, we see it in others and treat them accordingly. We then have clear vision of the truth we can then light the way for others to experience the same for themselves. Why do I sit here and write messages for those who may possibly read This? Because I’ve seen a light within myself and I want you, reader, to know you have it too and that it’s beautiful. So unique and so beautiful. I see it, I feel it- in me and in all of you.
What inspires you in someone else is what you already possess within you. The light that flickers within, that admiration, the spark to a potential flame are the capabilities and power you wield within yourself ready to be ignited and grown into a blazing fire. Growing to know and love ourselves more helps us to realize we are the love that which we seek, the talent we strive to be, the knowledge we wish to attain- we are.

It starts with a little seedling from a tree. This seed is unique from the rest, and so on and so forth for all the others. They fall down to the ground at different times in different ways. They all have a purpose to drop and grow at the pace and accordance fit for them. They are each different but same in beauty. As for every person here on earth. So we plant our seed, some sooner some later, we grow at the speed meant for us, and it all works together as a whole, meant to be- each encounter, embrace, sorrow, joy; all in perfect cadence for our greater good and achievement. Each moment has meaning each moment holds value and a lesson to learn about ourselves and all as a whole.
I love you all. Please keep reaching through the branches of your beautiful soul.

A Night In My Branches

It’s a rare occasion sometimes, to pull back the layers of junk created in one’s life: junk we grew up raised to believe, layer after layer of society’s expectation of us being smoothed down with a spreading knife, and look into that peeled back space to see what lies beneath.

When I happen upon that rare occasion I find something remarkable, something impossible to fully describe in words. What I experience is something beautiful beyond measure and beyond my current understanding. I sit baffled rather and in disbelief, and then I come into total trusting belief that what I see is possible, what I see is me- I see love, I feel love and I am love. In those moments I ask myself these questions every time, “Why don’t I always feel this way?” to “Why don’t I see this clearly all of the time?” And on that very same night of this realization I then go on as I normally do- I close my eyes to go to sleep, and by morning it’s as if the layers were pressed back down again and I move on as if that moment I had never existed. That is until that next rare occasion something wakes me up again and peels back those heavily caked on layers I’m so accustomed to.

This time I spiritually woke up from my daughter hugging my neck very tightly. I was telling her to let go because it was bed time. She cried and looked very sad as I was leaving the room and her sister rustled in her bed next to hers. I went into the kitchen and popped some food in the microwave, and then made my way to the living room to sit down and eat. I remembered the charger for my phone was in the room so I decided to pop back in very briefly to grab it, hoping not to cause a commotion. As I opened the door my youngest says from her crib, “Boo!” I laughed as I walked in. I then heard my oldest from her bed chuckle deep in her throat. So I made my way over one more time for hugs and kisses after grabbing my charger. I got down by my oldest and I smothered her with hugs and kisses. She then starts telling me, “You make me so happy, you really do love me. I miss you, momma.” Her words flooded out like a constant current of overwhelming emotion. I knew she was tired, but I could feel an emotion she had missed sharing with me, and that was love. It was in that moment I saw what was really important. It was in that moment she peeled back one of my layers and showed me what I had forgotten from all the hustle and bustle and stress I put onto my shoulders- she showed me what has always rested within me. It was in that moment my daughter reminded me how important it is to love, to be love and to recognize within us that love is who we truly are.
So I lied there a while and I held her back. I told my mind to shut up and I listened to my heart say stay. I gave my daughter something she truly missed and what she and all of us need. Love. In that moment my job that I have did not matter, the dirty clothes growing in the laundry basket did not matter, the tasks I know I have to do the next day did not matter, attending the world of social media on my phone as a passer-by of time and a distraction of my responsibilities (the very thing I intended to do by going back in the room to grab my charger) didn’t matter. What mattered was that moment, the love that consumed us, and the truth of who we as people truly are. What I saw was: she is my daughter, she needs me, she learns from me, she is my responsibility and I love her more that words can express. She and I, we help each other grow. And I saw the same as I turned around to my youngest and I looked into her fiery, familiar eyes- eyes that speak to me on many deep levels as well.
To you my friends: Embrace the moments that your layers peel back and you can see in clearly to your soul and your purpose- who it is you truly are. And after you wake up that next morning when you’re most vulnerable to the torment of the day’s possibilities ahead, remind yourself what it is that truly matters and how important it is to recognize it within yourself and share that very thing every single day. That thing is Love. It is you. It is us.
My love to you all, Keep reaching through the branches of your soul,

My Peculiar Dream #2


I was among people that came and went. There weren’t any in particular I knew or payed much attention to as we went in passing. The building I roamed about in was dim, cold and wet. There were dark areas in many places. I could tell it was night outside as I looked out a nearby window. Everything seemed to flow in a cycle- it always does. I had a feeling of familiarity when it came to what I was doing, how and where I walked about, like muscle memory. I knew in a sense I was dreaming as I picked up on familiar dream patterns I have, knowing of what is supposed to or what is to certainly happen.  This made me ready to change my rhythm, to move in a different way. I looked around and recognized the room I was in was quite large with many random stairs and isles to walk through. The ceiling was very tall with not much light. I looked at the door to the room that was closed and I felt something grow closer and closer to it. I got the feeling of a ravenous presence grew more and more as I inched closer to the door. It felt familiar and not enough to pinpoint, but I knew who this presence was. It held a rage that boiled and spilled over the closer it got to its target – me. My hand was now on the knob of the door. I knew if I opened it up I could possibly be eaten alive or this thing could be consoled by my love and guided to the light.

I turned the knob with optimism, my expectations high, well aware of the possibilities. But I loved this dangerous creature. I felt care for it deep in my heart, so I pursued. Crisp cold air rushed in and prickled my skin as I stared into a pitch dark hallway. I was chilled with anticipation as the uncontrollable force boiled over in the near distance. I knew it was staring at me. It plunged out of nothing into the dim light of the room I was in as I quickly dodged it. Speedily it barreled in and lost balance hitting a wall. It was a lion. Big, hungry and ready to take apart anything in its path, and me as its main target. But I knew it was time to face this beast instead of hide. But to have a chance to calm this beast I had to survive, so I created a diversion as we ran through the building. I tried to not let my fear overtake my compassion as the lion ripped through to its kill. I told it, “You don’t have to do this, you can stop this.” But we continued as we made our way out into the streets of the town. The lion bounced and plummeted through cars and wooden stands, and followed me into a home with a long windy hallway. I climbed to the top of the stairs and reached the last room of the house. I truly feared my life at this point, for the lion was still after me with nothing to lose. I looked at the window to my right and quickly opened it. I was ready for the escape as if it was already set in stone. The wind flowed in and blew the curtains around me as I looked back to see the lion creep itself into the room. I was ready to jump but caught sight of the lions eyes. Their familiar essence paralyzed me. My fright that I felt had overtaken me began to vanish and I slowly walked away from the windows ledge to face this beast. I could feel it battle its uncontrollable rage as it saw my pure love flow into its eyes. Its need to devour subsided as I gently touched its face, my fingers intertwined in its mane.

I drew my face closer to speak to it clearly, “I love you. You are me. I accept you. It is okay.” I spoke this to it through my eyes with no words. Its body and energy shifted, and its eyes softened in surrender. I brushed my hands along its back, calming any remaining nerves that were on edge. “Let’s ride together,” I said in my mind. I felt the lion agree, so I climbed on and we began to ride. Down the stairs and to the street. The dark of the night began to lighten into day. We were one and we loved each other for who we truly were.


Thank you for reading and experiencing such an amazing dream I had. If you don’t already, pay attention to your dreams and write them down. As they may be telling you something important to heal the wounds inside of  you. My love to you all!!

❤ Bekah.

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