Kamna's Blog

My heart is full of grace for what I have, and been given As those are two different things What I have is what I choose to keep What I've been given is by, of, and from love My heart is full of hunger for what I am to learn So much to see and do Seeking discomfort like a junkie Yet anxious because of fleeting, slippery time The newness of knowledge and unasked for wisdom like holes in a blanket of complacency and self righteousness My heart is full of discontentment for everything I've told myself I need but don’t have yet Yearning and obsession with the idea that what I need will save me from who I am like holding onto sand so tight that it's a palmful of nothing by the time I'm ready to open up My heart is full of grief for all I have lost Versions of myself I miss like I would an old dear friend Corners and drawers in a room that no longer exists Except in the squiggly creases of long term memory My heart is full of hope that is largely little; sometimes large and s...

What's a reasonable amount to bleed? I bet it is too much if you pass out from it? Is it too much if standing up feels like work? It's a chore isn't it? Being a woman with lady parts It is exhausting, mentally & physically A bright Sunday morning that's supposed to feel open and euphoric and free Made inconvenient and messy and uncomfortable Parts that can't be dismantled, pain that can’t be shared It's a lonely cross to bear

I wasn't trying to be polite When I said that you sang without rhythm You just don't wait for the song to flow like I do You rewrite the rules for how music should feel I confess it is not rare I mean to be mean but, I like when you sing when you see I'm blue Tuneless and a little stupid, I still sense the melody Tuning out I could be, tired too I rewrite the rules when it comes to tuning into you

The sway of the sycamore tree's delicate branches The calm nap face of a dreaming stray dog The jarringly bright reflection of the sun on a car's dash Giggling children with half-chewed food in their mouths A realist sees math, and feels joy An optimist sees music, and feels joy A romantic sees poetry, and feels joy  Math or music or poetry, Joy is the state most naturally met, The means to the end matter as much as   fish bones do to a vegan   being tidy does to an emotionally fragile hoarder   a WiFi router to a marine biologist in a submarine   two dental kits in a ventriloquist's travel bag

I bite my tongue the instant the doctor's assistant punches holes into 7 crisp report printouts I bite now, that's my thing If knuckle nails is to wolverine Unbidden masochistic biting is to me, I'm wolver-rani My teeth, it is the one good thing I got from my father The very same set of even molars, aesthetic incisors and sharp canines And how I choose to care for it is to not Barring the nighttime brushing routine There is daily jhanjhanahat they must endure In the form of cold water and hot oatmilk chai But enough about crowns bound to jaws I didn't come out of my writer's block for this What I did want to write about is the philosophical undertone of teeth clenching and what it means about control, or the lack of it About wanting to keep your head (and jaw) above water because life is not consistently kind About being a drama queen, with crowns plural, who seeks sympathy in oatmilk chai because dairy is apparently not my friend, and supposedly never was I wanted...