(Inspired by a title-less poem from The Book of Moons [Insert author name here], and Bree lol)
Pen. Doesn't. Leave. The. Paper.
This was a really beautiful poem.
Inspiring, some might say.
But not much is coming up right now.
My feet sink to the deepest depths of the ocean
and my brain is orbiting the sun with the rest of the planets.
My body is the heavy space in between.
I feel everything so deeply--
the wife of a friend's cancer diagnosis
is a gunshot wound in my chest.
my sister's blended family life being torn up in a blender
hits my jaw like a balled-up fist adorned in brass knuckles.
the loss of a dear friend's companion and service animal and pet
felt deeply in my own beating heart.
the alcohol burning a hole in my aunt's liver (and relationships)
burns my throat like the words
that just won't come out.
I feel everything so very deeply;
but I don't see it as a curse anymore.
I just have to remember to take out the trash,
donate what is not mine to own.
Have to remember that we get bursts of magic,
moments of peace
reminders of what its all about.
I have to remember that when I accidentally picked up a familiar hitchhiker on my drive home--
that darkness, the hollow weight, the feeling of heaviness that I had gotten so used to
so many years ago--
I have to greet it as an old friend
because my dear, we are not full moons all of the time.
Most of the time.
We are not suns or stars or lamps
without an off-switch
and neither is life;
if it was, we'd blaze right out of it.
And besides, I much prefer a squiggly line to a straight one
an occasional rainstorm to a scorching desert heat
a winter cold enough to freeze bones and settle deep within me
because I know that a thawing spring
a warming summer
a peaceful fall
are on their way.
Besides, it tends to come back,
doesn't it?
-a.b.
“I feel everything so deeply but I just don’t see it as a curse anymore”
MMMMMMMMMAYDIA