Recovery

Will

The open wound of you still gapes within my heart

Jagged edges I can’t sew together with nothing but whispers

I mock my own pain in the mirror, dancing with myself

Tipping my hat to the shadow that lingers on my bed

You spin a brilliant light in their wide-open, empty eyes

Throwing out line after line of silver tongued memories

Until they dance around you like crazed marionettes

Kindred on the surface imprinted with your same manic song

But I know the secret of every rotted bough in your waters

The dank and dark where you live split right down the middle

Laughter and tears all together, streaming from your mouth’s web

You take a bow for the cheering crowd snapping photos in your head

I was there in your blackness watching you stumble against walls

Screaming the blame back into everyone else, always someone else

I carved a flashlight from my own chest, my own beating chambers

Not realizing then, I’d come to miss the weight of my own worth

We were covered in our blood and yet it wasn’t enough to save us

Transfusions were needed but our veins couldn’t take the invasion

At least, you didn’t believe they could, so you opted not to bother

Better to stay beneath the bandage, tidy and managed for now

I opted to find healing, a full surgical assault on my busted soul

My axiom, my genesis long since forgotten, coming back in drops

Salty and sweet on my tongue, this remembering, rediscovering

I stand now, still with this wound of you, but standing all the same

Time will, slowly and gently, see you ended with delicate stitches

I will sleep with both eyes closed and breathe deeply of peace

I will dance again with someone new or stay a partner to myself

I will rise and sing and layer by layer, I will recover all of me. I will.

Light in the Tunnel

Hope

It’s tight in here, where my breath is labored and shallow

I’m pounding my heels against a bloodied trap door

All the while, out in the open, holding fresh flowers

For all to see and admire, stopping to tell me

I hope you’re doing well, you look like you are

It’s so hot in here, where my head is under water

Running up hill, endlessly, even as I fall clumsily down

Yet I welcome everyone into my hot air balloon

Soaring over the city and saying breathlessly

How lovely it is for you, up here in the freedom and fresh air

It’s crowded in here, where all my thoughts throw knives

So many brutal edges and conversations, I can’t get a word in

But still, I gather the gawkers and seekers into a circle

Passing the oils and sage around, each saying softly

Isn’t this peace delicious, better than romance and wine

It’s impossible in here, where opportunity seems dead

Doors welded shut by rust from decades of doubt

And yet, screaming, I cast out a spider’s line of silk

Barely daring to believe that out there, one day, it will be better

Better even than flowers and romance and peace