Lodged inside a hollow mind I find the floor of my headspace colder than before Chilly Windy Silent In here I escape sometimes And I’m trapped sometimes And I’m scared sometimes And I’m free sometimes And I come here frequently just to be with you This is the only place we can exist together Even though you will never touch me Or speak to me The memory Unable to do these things Is still better than complete absence
If I dared you You wouldn’t You’d never You’ve given me Permission To do it I’d do it If you’d promise me To do The same I dare you Forget me
If love was a flower It would be a wild one Tamed only by the stillness of a field Quenched solely by the waters of the sky Drawn simply by the shining of the sun Broken only by the harvest of the dawn It’d be a flower one would never pick It’s beauty taking roots to shelter it I believe ours was a wild one
Revisiting is crippling me Over and over I feel little to nothing it seems You got the better maybe best of me But couldn’t time revive the beat when I breathe Like a drum the hollow can speak In volumes it resonates me I encounter the music of weak Just to realize there’s never Anything To listen to It’s silent in the depths I know I’ve tried to make a melody flow Tried to make the simplest tune But cheapened versions of heartbeats brought no beat A numbness that I once thought was gone came back immediately When I opened my mouth to sing Nothing Absolutely nothing And so revisiting memories has become a memory itself As I try to walk again without the hindrance of the past Over and over I try to walk again
She sat with her legs lifted to her chest Nothing but the moonlight Just its quiet glow was awake Asphalt Angry edges against cloth shorts Night rested on her shoulders It was in this place that she sighed a breath of relief Outside Breathing and existing came easier Naturally Simply to exist seemed like a blessing in And of itself She began to play with the laces on her shoes One knot, two knots, some dirtied souls Then, in a quick gesture, she slid each shoe off Placed them beside her And jumped to her feet Feeling the asphalt Letting it color her skin the color of night She screamed Not out But over She screamed over the sound of her own heartbeat Over the sound of her thoughts Over the sound of her voice Over the fence She climbed into a field of damp grass And she ran to meet dawn When it broke So did she Down against the morning dew Close enough to smell the mix of dirt and grass Good morning She whispered it Not out But under She whispered under the weight of life Under the blessing of morning’s light Under the warmth of existence
Thank you so much for reading these! I’m learning that not all poems have a story of redemption. Often times I hold my poems up to a standard that is too high, a standard that doesn’t allow me to feel something, share it, and admit that I’m still walking through it. Pretty bows don’t wrap up vulnerability. I’d say vulnerability is messy and confusing. The redemption comes through what God does with our vulnerability. He lets us feel, but He always centers us back on who He is…
“Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens. Our God is a God who saves; from the Sovereign LORD comes escape from death.” Psalm 68:19-20
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