Wordy Wednesdays
The following is a collection of untitled poems (3), each written individually at different times but that seem to thread themselves together. A beginning, a middle and an end of sorts. For your enjoyment and for my peace I’m sharing them all today.
1.
I rise up from ash at daybreak.
A cold chill stirs me from a restless slumber.
I pick up the bloody pieces of my heart and knit together enough hope to get one leg and then the next onto not-so-solid ground.
I rest the heavy weight of my soul as evenly as I can through this bent over spine.
Head hung low, I say my prayers - a rushed good morning, I list my aches.
Hand them over to You.
We need to get on with this day. I run my hands through the tangled mess of thoughts still lingering in my head.
I try to wash off the lingering stench of failure from the day before, soap and water don’t seem to do the trick.
So I lather myself in the perfume of performance, put on a suit of purpose and armed with my measuring stick I go out in to the world.
Maybe today we’ll get it right.
Maybe this time I’ll be good enough for me.
2.
My heart sits heavy in my throat I can’t seem to swallow it down Choking on all the things I’ve left unsaid I take a strangled breath, just trying to get some air I’m suffocating in this space I aspirate on these mixed emotions These unshed tears fill my lungs And I’m drowning on dry ground as disappointment floods my soul And I retreat in to the safe house of distance I curl up in my bed and I stay there Even after my body goes wondering in the world Trying to find another soul to latch itself on to It’s host unreachable behind doors that slammed shut in my face I thought they were safe to open, leading me to gardens of green They only turned out to be dusty closets Caskets And there lay all my dreams ... And there lay all my dreams
3.
Billions of nerve endings firing up millions of sarcomeres Sending messages to brain drenched in chemicals producing pain To raise arms high while platelets gather to stop gushes of blood that drips through fingers And with fist in the air, though bones have broken,
victory whispers until souls are woken “I am here”
Fin
