Sunday, January 29, 2017

the size of baby steps

I would close my fist, so gently
around you
squeezing a lilac petal
to protect it from the breeze

A breeze that blows too damn hard

In grief, as in life, we learn about baby steps
We learn that YEARS, not days or weeks
fit in that shadow shape

We learn to disco with our shadow side
to place our feet down in precise ways
so that the ripping and tearing dials down

But recipes and meal plans
don't work for everyone

So as silence screams inside my solitary skull
and my country crumbles and crystallizes around me
I continue to crawl

I am tiny
inside all this
but I am everything

And at least I have practice
being afraid

In grief I've found my dance steps
inside an enormous prison
But how can I be found...ever?

Regardless...I am not the first
Nor am I the last
Nor is my journey or pain a thing that affords me
more than anyone

I have no mouth
yet I am screaming

my eyes are dry
yet streaming with all
the tears

I have spoken, softly begged
for him to be well
for a safe unbroken space

and there are streams of bitter lies
where dreams of peace
have died...melting into something


Have you ever put your arms out and spun?
In your living room, on the playground, your bedroom?
Spun until the spinning became a part of you?

And nothing was visibe
But everything was there
to be felt

And you tried to walk
or you lay down on the cold concrete
 and closed you eyes

I have no answers
to anything
not one

I'm dizzy spinning inside my head
just trying to carefully place a foot

I am alone
I accept this

But I don't want to accept it

I'm dizzy and spinning

But the murmurs melt it all together
The pain
The hope
The fear
The strength

Till there is nothing
good or bad
strong or weak

There is only