Writing about the creative life and the stories all around us
listen to this poem here:
You say the sun is always there.
Above, only sullen nimbus grey.
My left hand grasps at shadows
right hand trapped by work’s iron fist
behind, a thousand tiny ties bound to the past
below, soul-sucking mud swallows every step
hateful reality burns down my dreams.
But you say, keep going
I’m doing great, so tell me
will I see the sun again
do you promise?
listen here:
I thought I could carry you with me.
We walked hard roads together
leaning on each other in bad times
laughing side by side in good times
we didn’t know our lines would run parallel
only for so long.
A tiny shift
a tiny space
the lines diverging
and I try
try to hold on
because
after all
we are seen and we are known
we are something to each other
not easily found, I thought.
But since I set my compass to wider horizons
you dig at me with your discomfort
scratch me with your disapproval.
And I try
try to hold on
because
after all
I will miss you too
your sarcasm and tears
your perspective and your fears
the way we huddled together for warmth
long into dark nights.
But with every angry jibe
the chasm grew, so
I placed you tenderly behind a shield of glass
raised for my own protection
seen, not felt
cry if you must
and don’t forget
I love you even as
you shrink in my rear view mirror.
I should be looking forward
and I try
try to hold on
but
after all
time is the great separator.
Almost beyond touching distance
yet it still hurts.
I wish you well
but
I wish I could carry you with me.
listen here:
I have something to say
so large
so dangerous
it might destroy the world
I swallow it
lava turned granite
elbows my heart aside
crushes my lungs out of existence
graceless under pressure
walk, don’t talk
hold on tight
I’m unexploded
barbs in my throat
(smile)
each breath a haze of pain
acid rains unwept
corroded within
a shiny carapace
I swallow it
my gut twists
in broken glass waves
tiptoeing
careful now
when the bomb blows
only one victim