Island

I do not need to make all things so real

In an effort to anchor, I let everything

Feel

Personal, true

It’s crazy, it subdues

How can one person bear the weight of a billion wrongs?

How can two trembling hands

count the words of endless songs?

Two bony shoulders cannot straighten under the weight

Of every single human beings’ worst moment and mistake.

I must stop anchoring myself to loss

To suffering, and breakage, and torment without cause.

What business have I to empathize

With every one at once?

If I do not break to clean my faith

It will crumble, like dust, all at once.

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Real?

Not even sunlight can banish the storms

The tempest that turns all it touches to what I abhor

Tributes of gold that flow from the trees;

Touching the sky to flame, to beauty

Nevertheless, my eyes protest

I do not see light. I do not see grace

A simple drive and what do I find?

Woman and child, together outside

God, they’re in agony!

Holding what’s left, someone’s final breaths

They weep, clad in flesh…

A blink and a jolt, I shudder

Reality returns?

This is not a vigil.

Just chores. Elbows deep in a bag of mulch.

Hope

Whoa, what bitterness is this

Whose twisted thoughts have I trekked in?

Surely this darkness isn’t mine,

This want for aching, wasted time

Someday I’ll be solid, healed

Someday the nightmares won’t be there to steal

If the nights are silent, the days reveal

Endless screaming from the ones repealed

Some time night and day alike

Will toss their haunting-juggling storms

Aside

And all the worry and fear I despise

Will finally

Entirely

Subside.

Relent

Can. I drift. Away. Someplace

Calling friends new and old

Disgrace

Can I float down every stairwell

Ever built, destroyed, or wrought to sell

Can I curl up inside my wretchedness

Among the thoughts that call me

Worthless

Can I give in to the pounding rain

That floods my brain and calls my name

Can I let it drown me again?

Who will stop me if I let them in?

written in

I can never be a pilot

Nor an astronaut

I cannot dredge the seas

Or climb the mountaintops

I cannot be a surgeon, nor a soldier

Will never be allowed to hold death in my hands

But I can be a fighter

And a lover, and a writer

I can breathe the oceans and sail the sky

I will always see the heights if they’re set under the right guise

 

the only thing i need to live the world

is

this

pen.

Happy invisible illness awareness week

I still feel fake

Like I am a parade

What business do I have

Saying I’m not okay?

As healthy as I seem… My sickness can’t be seen.

My poison had no name

So WHO AM I TO CLAIM

“I can’t because I’m lame…”

To pass along the blame?

It is so hard to accept, to know

That I can ever say no…