A Not Unraveling

Let me get to the heart

Of the matter at once;

My deepest darkest secret fear

Is that I will let myself down

And crush those that I love,

Through actions that betray

a pathetic lack of courage.

Not uncommon, I know.

Not even unfounded, it’s true.

But the hole in my stomach -

-the dryness of my mouth -

the derailment of thought;

Confer a unique experience

Each time the penny drops

I realized this some time ago,

And that more out of curiosity

About my own internal process

A wonder at my surrender

At my acceptance of paralysis

Will it always be so easy, so familiar

these patterns of failure

I search for my inner Ivanhoe

propelled by a greater fear, of course;

Of time unaccounted; sunken costs –

Standing still – and yet getting lost.

Will I survive not being constantly gratified?

If I split into two, I might see this through

But I can inhabit the future only when it’s now.

Do Not Deny The Wretchedness

When I was a little girl – a tween?

And it rained on lazy evenings

I would run outside in my petticoat

And invite my mom along to play

In the puddles with me – 1, 2, 3.



Somehow she rarely ever joined in these

Trying harder instead to entice me

Into returning inside, to promises,

Of food or some such sundry

Entertainment – a bribe essentially.



I hearken back to this old memory

Because suddenly I feel the itch to be

Standing barefoot, soaking the vitality

Of that moment. The mud, the breeze

The unrelenting patter was, to me, almost therapy.



***



Ma. I may need some therapy.

Just come feel the earth loosen under your feet.

Do not deny the wretchedness,

Which we blame upon the drought in our hearts;

We all long to be loved, but we need to be free.

why I rejected your friend request

This one is for my friends

Who wonder where i’ve been

Hiding – just out of their sight

Or deep in the funkhouse

I measure my worth like I

Measure my days – sometimes

I don’t fully inhabit the person in

the images I show to the world

On such days when it takes a little more,

I turn to tea or toast or poetry

But sometimes I must sit down and

Confront some dizzying questions

I think my face rather ugly then

I look lost and slow and chubby

So my focus shifts to better expression

As soon as I am reminded of this

It is not for me, not, certainly,

In this lifetime, to live up to your ideals

But maybe once I start controlling

My facial expressions -  I’ll say hello

Carpe...damn.

Wake up calls work for

those who are asleep, and not

for us who keep our eyes closed

wilfully explaining away

every lost opportunity

as one that never was found

what does it mean to

stand up for myself

and discount the doubt for a minute

to take a clean confident plunge

into the unknown depths

it could be beautiful

it could mean wishing i’d

done it sooner and better

it could mean learning a lesson

but what i will never know by crawling

back under my own oppression

i will never know at all.

Too many times

Too many times

It has happened that you overreach

And bring to ruins a carefully

Calibrated reality

It is no longer allowed 

to look the other way

As the constant friction remoulds

your differences into opacity

Surely there's more to understand

Perhaps the hour is not now

Perhaps this is all you will have

And other things may begin to matter.

shed your sticky angst

But before you walk away lighter

put down these words in a cool, dry place

a poem is a safekeeper