Monday, April 13, 2015

Beyond the Death Month

And we pass the death.
Another mark,
Bleeding hands,
To write, it is broken;
There is no schedule,
Of when my voice speaks,
Of when my throat closes,
Of when I write but no words come.
When I am not scraping perfection in words.
Anti-social, introvert, I write:
my only option for peace of mind.
I twist, I fall, I falter.
I am broken.
That's okay -
I am whole, also.
I've gathered myself up,
I am smiling.
Seven months dead,
The bitter thoughts,
Sinking beneath the ice.
That's okay -
I was brought up,
The exact same people who put me there saved me,
Life raft,
Day two,
Alternative thoughts,
An urn -
Ashes, as she wished.
Opposite, failure, question marked.
One day.
It's not today.
Abstract in the best understanding;
This is emotion.
Eloquent thoughts,
Older than you think,
Younger than you believe:
Strength in numbers,
Like the redwoods,
I am not complete and utter isolation.
Keep busy, now.
You've passed this day.
Death month and death memorial and death faults.
Death thoughts.
Words are hard.
Close your eyes;
Good-bye is not forever -
And I'll be seeing you on the other side.
Day three.
Taste the rain.

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