Author: poetryfest

A large breath is pushed out of me
I am just trying to be alive
To inhale and exhale
Laugh and to walk
But i’m not sure if i’m doing it right
Everything I bite into is rotten
No one believes but it’s true
To felt loved is not to deny the inevitable
But it is to stare in the eyes and say its name
What good is a woman if she cannot perform?
If she is not loving and kind
What good is a friend if there is a wretched coldness in place of her heart
What good is a lover when she locks you out at signs of need
I cannot go on
I wake up I work I come home I sleep
There is an awful taste in my mouth
and it is spreading to my face
and everyone has noticed
The people around me they say there is something there now
It wasn’t there before
How do I even begin to explain
The aching exhaustion of blinking
breathing
staying alive
And if I have mistaken you then I apologize
but this is no dramatic ordeal
There will be cries out loud for help
There will be no displays of agony
Simply a head that cannot be lifted
A sky that cannot be cleared
Does that make sense now?

There was only one place I longed for
Things have now changed
Not always in a good way
Because now there are two

I used to run away in my dreams
Away from the place of my nightmares
Back to my home
It was the only way out

Deep, deadly thoughts lurked
Until I could escape the sorrow
Memories embedded that wouldn’t come
That was the way things were

Now there are both friends and foes
If I were to leave, hearts would be broken
It’s still the place I fear
But now I do not wish to leave as badly

Learn to stay away from the shadows
Step out into the shining light
For where I used to hide
That’s where the monsters lurk

Choosing is not an option
The pain is too great
But the pain of leaving may be greater
Maybe there’s another way

The language we speak is aging, already old.
Will the fog burn off today?
We are still good at catching our heart strays,
agile though they are, aging though we are.

No fights still – but is that due to fog?
You were so much light when I met you, still are.
And you make so much light in me.
Even if no children come from our us.

I thought everything I left, which was everything,
to be with you was ash to me—or would be when I was gone.
It is even more alive, more blazing with light,
which it would have to be for me to see

from this far away now. Is it everything
that looks better from far away?
Or only that, when you get real close,
you can see that everything really is dust.

You thought it’s okay
to do as you please and betray me.
Prepare yourself. It’s time for war.
I’ll make sure you never do this again.
So, keep that pillow nice and cold.

He toyed with my mind
Stretched it, shook it, cracked it wide
He called me fat, ugly, hairy
When I first heard him, I cried
Then it faded

When staff wouldn’t care, I pretended not to
But when I got home, when I showered
When I had to shave the face I hate
The water washed the tears, but not the pain
When the razor met my face, it all rushed back to me

It felt like it was the first hurt in my life
I thought about when another toyed with my heart
We would hide rings at the pool, exchange glance
Our soles met below common-area tables
I’d lay awake imagining his scent
But he didn’t imagine mine

I gave him a way to reach me, and he smiled
But as I left, I saw him show the others
His words evaded me, but I already knew them
The same staff who left me to cry threatened my pencil
They said it’d be gone if it happened again
But why would it?

That night my journal read “I am rotten meat”
I’m not sure if it holds true
But when I was held there, I felt it was
They toyed with my whole being

That place left me feeling defective; broken from birth
I still feel scrambled; like I have loose parts
I want to be loved, not just played with
I want to go far, but I need to be wound up again

Wait.

Is it over yet?
Not for another year. Or ten.
I’m a violent shade of bruised violet

Your brother died in the war? He was fighting for your rights
Your rights I so love to violate.

Wait.

Just a little bit longer
Only a few thousand left to die
Marching off straight to the skies

Bones in grass
Browns, and decaying grays

Wait.

I am one of you,
I am the everlasting elite,
I am the horseman known as war,

And I will do
Whatever it takes
for me to survive.

Memories linger between
the threads of my sweatshirt.

Glimpses of lilac-clothed moments
retained within the stitches of
a cotton-polyester blend.

Simple fabric now consoling me
from my mind’s wanderings to you.

Adiós por ahora, mis amigos

Hay mucho que todavía yo no sé.
Habrá cosas que yo no puedo saber.
¿Si otra vez nos volveremos a ver?
De cierto, hay mucho que nunca sabré.

¿A dónde nuestras vidas nos llevarán?
¡Eso es el rompecabezas más grande!
Viendo mañana, nadie ahora rinde
Ni si al buen lugar nos traerán.

Pero sí, conozco a mi futuro
Entero a sí mismo él me traerá
Aunque él me da un camino duro.

Debo creer que completos nos hará
Que confían en su amor seguro
Y en su amor mis amigos guardará.

Jesús para siempre nos guardará.
En lo fin, Jesús completo nos hará.

[My response to the song, “The Rose,” by Amanda McBroom]

I never learned to dance!
I had a heart afraid of [everything]
Ridicule, being called stupid, a “retard”
Clumsiness, being called a foot-breaker
Cluelessness, being called a heart-breaker
Facing the wrath of a God who hated fun
At least if I had it
Whether ‘twas God or others accusing
Made no difference
And, oh, yes, it takes two to tango
And my heart was afraid of breaking
So I never learned to dance!

I had beautiful, Technicolor dreams
But they were also afraid of [everything]
What if I was wrong, and called a “failure”—
I faced this anyway and could not avoid it
Even when I gave up my own dreams
To follow and serve those of others.
At least then I was not guilty of a “wrong” dream
A dream that must be “wrong” because it was my own!
And I also had vivid, Technicolor nightmares
That came closer to reality than my dreams
And that I could never pawn off—they were always my own!
Better to dream on, than to awaken and face them!

But was I so afraid of being taken
That I never learned to give?
No, I gave and gave and gave!
I was afraid of being taken
But I was more afraid of being called uncaring
Unchristian, stingy, the cause of others’ woes
That I gave even when I shouldn’t have
Gave for all the wrong reasons
Gave up some of those closest to me
Who now no longer own me
Gave up opportunities that would never come again
And never really learned to give!
 

So my soul too was afraid of [everything]
But most of all of dying while I yet lived
Of loss of the things that were my life
Of the death of the love of those I loved
Of the very things that, in my fear of death, died
Of the knowledge that of this death I was the cause.
It was not the hatred of the God who hated fun
The God of my Puritan, pilgrim past
That kept me from learning to dance
From learning to live
But my fear of life’s loss kept me from learning to live.

So dare I hope so late as now
Toward the end of my life
That, beneath all of the ice and snow
Atop my frozen grave
When the sun’s love clears the cold stone
There will yet lie the seed
That in the spring becomes the rose?

Our cat died tonight
The last of many losses
The sweetest cat we’ve ever known
But she was old
And old cats die.

We agreed we would never
Have another pet;
Losing them is too hard
And it would be hard
For our next pet to lose us.
Old people also die.

But might I make an exception
For a pet rock?
Old rocks also die
But on geologic time.

Of course, someone might.
If ignorant of our relationship,
Discard my new pet.
And, after my demise,
Someone might feed my rock
To a crusher,
To make works
Of fleeting human “progress.”

So maybe I should instead
Take a pet star!
Even old stars die,
But if I pick a young, blue one
I can be certain it will
Outlive me by many years,
And remain,
Even when my sun is no more,
And not mourn my passing.