Tempest

despair

Big grey clouds are covering my skies lately. Every so often there’s a

break where the sun shines through but then,

too quickly,

the clouds eat it up again. I’m flailing here.

I don’t know what to do,

so all I can do is simply sit

and wait until the storm begins and, then,

ride it out.
It’s tiring, this waiting.

I try to build up a sand-bag partition because

I know it will flood

but the bags are so heavy and I tire from the work.

Besides, it’s just sand in the bags. One rip and it all washes away

and the water will still continue to trickle through. Or else,

the sand will absorb only so much of the water and then that’s it.

It can take no more.

Maybe I’m the bag of sand.
Sometimes I’m the water,

threatening to rage across the land,

devour everything in my path. I could, you know; it wouldn’t be hard.

Drown everyone and everything so that nothing’s left

but me and my misery.

Then slowly I’d recede back to the nothing I came from and

we’d begin again.

Start fresh;

let the green things take over.
Maybe I should let the flood overtake me.

Let it fill my lungs and drive the air from my body.

That’s what it wants to do.

Drowning couldn’t hurt more than this

power struggle between us every day.

Blood sacrifices were sacred, once upon a time, and,

God knows,

I’ve bled gallons that dripped into

this salt-water Niagra my tears created.
But I can’t do that.

Instinct forces me up to fight

(I’ve never been much good at flight),

so here I am

building up the wall again

as I wait for the storm to burst.

 

*therapy writing today using poetic medicine. It does your emotional health good.

Where the Scars Don’t Show

desolacion

Red screams fill my blue skies,

Anguish overflows these tortured eyes.

In my world of truth

There’s a river of hurt left by you.

 

Cut me, and I bleed down to the bone,

Stitched-up heart with broken-glass hope.

Leave me here upon that desolate shore,

To live, to love, nevermore.

 

Let the ravens come now and pick me dry,

No more living in a world built on your lies.

Beyond love’s desire-colored veil,

Beyond your reach, there I will dwell.

 

*I always say that words have power…and some words are meant to cut deep. I’ve found that, once the invisible “blood” has dried, there’s an emptiness, a hollowness, a numbness that descends upon you. Whether it’s a respite for healing or simply limbo until the next verbal offense comes, I don’t yet know. But that’s where you can find me tonight.

Broken

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Tell me to keep going one more time

Because you think I can do it

Tell me everything is possible

As long as I want it bad enough

Oh, but don’t you know

 

Sometimes the pain is too much

And I’ve no more stamina

My endurance is pushed to its limits

And I can’t keep going.

 

Where are you then

Where are you then

When I’m on my knees

I’ve given in

Where are you then

Where are you then

 

Take these pills

It will get better

Keep going

You’re made of strength

 

Oh, but don’t you know

Determination only goes so far

When the demons come out to play

And don’t you know, oh, don’t you know

They know where my darkest fears reside

 

Where are you then

Where are you then

When the world attacks and my cave crashes in

Where are you then

Where are you then

When I’ve given in

 

Keep your blue stripes

Keep your rainbow ribbons

I’ve got no more stamina

Endurance pushed to the limits

It’s time to simply…

 

STOP!

 

*Not everything can be cake and ice cream days. Sometimes you’ve got to just let the storm rage and make it through. Not that it’s raging for me currently but somewhere someone’s storm is hurricaning through them. (Yes, I made that a verb.) This is what it feels like for me when I just can’t take anymore “helpful” consolation, even though I know they mean well.

Sing, Black Bird, Sing

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Sing, little Black Bird, sing your song,

Tell us all where we went wrong.

Sing, little Black Bird, tell us the truth,

How it all started in earth’s early youth.

 

Sing, little Black Bird, tell the awful tale,

How hate and violence tried to prevail.

But sing, little Black Bird, sing also of kindness;

Tell us of those others, our greatest and finest.

 

Sing, little Black Bird, tell us why

You wear those ribbons waving high.

Sing, little Black Bird, sing your song-

To come together is to be strong.

 

Sing, little Black Bird, sing to remember,

Those who were lost that mid-September.

Sing little Black Bird, never let us forget:

Hate and violence lead to regret.

 

*In remembrance for many things.