Fortified by my seeming indifference and prescription –dulled demeanor,
the tears don’t leak until days later,
in the safety of solitude.
Your weakness has become me,
questions batter my mind with guilt and grief;
Was it my perfectionism? Was I too demanding? What else could I have done?
I tried and tried and tried
to give you all and more,
taking out emotional loans
that you could never repay.
Maybe I made you dependent.
Maybe I smothered you with my
Maybe there’s nothing I could’ve of done.
Maybe there’s nothing I can do except wait to see
If you find the strength,
If you accept the chance,
If you give up on this erred identity,
And forge a new self,
Humbler but wise,
Simpler but true,
Feebler but Grace-ful.
I rock, I talk
I sway, I pray
I spin, I grin
I caress, I assess
I sing, I swing
I bless, I stress
I dance, I prance
I breathe, I seethe
I bounce, I flounce
“WILL THIS BABY EVER FALL ASLEEP?!”
Layers of meaning embrace my words,
Keeping my spirit warm,
From menacing bleakness,
My soul gives them form.
Sensual metaphors woven,
From a lifetime of living,
Sing broken ballads,
Songs of forgiving.
Healing often means
Allowing the self to break,
Tears to heal,
Poetry to awake.
There is beauty in brokenness,
Through the fissures of humility,
Seep the verses of grace,
a typical tumble in the turbid monotony of the mundane,
metamorphoses into a molting of denial,
a moving manifestation of humility.
Hope spins in spirals,
shooting sparks across my soul,
granting me a glimpse of Grace.
Gorran Haven beach at night (Photo credit: DanForys)
Just as my eyes begin to adjust to the salty darkness,
they distinguish your shadowy figure,
struggling to discriminate your form from the obscure.
They battle to hold on to your silhouette,
to define it against the sea’s shades of night.
Having been blurred for so long,
I find your face has begun to clear.
A heavy fog lifts gradually.
slipping on sand.
Fumbling in fear,
I reach out my hand,
you will take it.