"Suffocation," a poem by Jess Coffman

It's as though the air has been sucked out. 

vacuum sealed, without space for 

mistakes or creativity,

squeezed tight, without freedom 

or grace. 

Regret all over my face. 

But with determined eyes to be "right"

Having lost sight of the gratitude.

Lying flat, and suffocating

With a mask of resilience, 

I stay stuck. 

Fucked, by my own stubbornness

and self preservation.

I take a deep breath 

and blow the plastic protection 

surrounding me, 

away from my lips,

pushing air out and through 

what feels like an inflexible balloon. 

Labored breath, and with frustration,

I try with all of my will, to create 

a bubble of understanding.

It's so difficult, even though 

I want desperately for it to be easy.

Exhausted, I just stop.

almost without choice, 

I stop pushing.

I rest.

I close my eyes and give into the squeeze, 

but instead of feeling claustrophobic,

I allow my limbs wrapped 

around myself, to feel like a

full body hug. 

I relax into the tightness.

As my heart beat slows,

my breath is calm and shallow.

An inner warmth felt like the 

eye contact held with an infant, 

melts the imprisoning armor around me. 

As it falls, peeling away the impurities 

of my guilt and frustration,

I feel a birthing.

A chance at new choices,

a cleansed and free body.

When I open my eyes, 

he is 

still there,

looking fresh and new too.

Tentatively, we each 

take a step toward one another.

Recognizing the other's ready and 

listening spirit. 

With steady heart beats in alignment

we gracefully navigate,

through the summer wildflowers, to the 

Trees of Life. 

JESS COFFMAN

 Hello Dear Friend! 

Thank-you so much for reading "Suffocation." It was a poem I could help but write, after an argument I had the previous night, with someone I truly care about. Though we didn't end the conversation in anger, we also couldn't end it with a hug either, due to being in two separate places. When I woke in the morning, I felt as though I had an emotional hangover, which was a feeling I hadn't felt in a very long time, possibly never. So though I should have been focusing on learning new music at work, I split my attention and wrote at the same time. In my experience, when emotions meet inspiration, it is an unstoppable force that compels me to write, and I don't allow anything to prevent me from accomplishing the piece of work that is trying to be born. This is why I always carry around a journal, pen and phone, ready for when inspiration comes whispering in my ear and knocking on my heart. 

Peace, Whispers and Trees of Life, 

Your Jess

(P.S. The photo of the marble sculpture above was created by Belgian artist George Minne, in the late 1800's. The name of the sculpture is "Adolescent I," and is meant to depict the emotions and posture of self-protection and defiance, as well as shame and anguish. I was so uncomfortably moved by this sculpture, when I saw it at the Getty Museum in Los Angeles. I feel like it is a perfect representation of the way that I felt during my emotional hangover. 

The photo of the beautiful sunnies, was taken at the Sonoma Ashram. As I was looking up at them, they seemed to look down on me with a curious and knowing presence. I loved it.)