The Human Condition

Alone

in my head

how did this happen again?

Afraid of myself

more than anyone else

afraid of my mind’s tricks

like the devil

part of me runs,

part of me nourishes.

 

External realities

versus internal dimensionality

my vulnerability

got me everything good

and everything bad

trust my mind–

it is strong,

then flies out the window.

 

All I can do now

is observe the mess I am in:

feel the anxiety,

the past pain,

the current waves of doubt

and listen to the monster truck

of thoughts roll through my head

as if it was the last track in the world.

 

Perhaps this is the most natural thing:

to let up, to let it win and lose

and nothing and everything

to let the stories be

to let the suicide be

to let my knowledge free

to let my wisdom bring

me the greatest joy I’ve ever known:

the expanse of life

growing in and out

nothing the same at any moment

love blossoming in my bones

while fear eats my mind–

it’s just one iteration

of the human condition,

is it not?

 

So eat away,

my friend fear…

I’m not sure what role the pills will play

but life can’t get away

simply because experience and temperament

created a shift in my thinking

understand that this is still

my gift of a body

and I respect its reaction–

mind, body, and soul connected–

to the darkest corners of life…

sweet loneliness turned sour

and still with age, abandonment

of reason with one phone call,

one bad dream…

and still the pure light of tomorrow…

the pureness of now.

 

April 1, 2016

 

More than anything, this is a release of thoughts and feelings surrounding mental health and my own struggles/my family’s struggles and experiences (the mention of suicide, a phone call and pills allude to a tragic family event) with the topic.  

You are never alone, no matter what unfolds in your life.  It can be difficult to find meaning out of suffering and loss, but it is, indefinitely, part of the human condition…and through the cracks, love and art can find their way out. 

While Walking

A division in the concrete

warrants a bruised knee,

some pep in the step,

perhaps a quick jump-and-skip;

you never want to break

your leg

but you go on,

hoping for the best…

 

Luck was never with me.

Luck was always with a friend.

 

And I was neither friend

nor foe–

what does that make me?

 

What does that do

to make the grass greener

as I leap to the other side

I want to hear God

scream my name,

tell me all will be okay

that the ditch below me

will not be my only home

dollar bills my only friends.

 

I need fresh air to breathe

before I need new policy

(too bad fate landed me in this century).

 

In the pitter patter of rain

I stop and wait

for the pen to start,

the mind to move

and ink to pour out–

just as the sky empties itself,

my heart needs release.

 

I spare

the crack in the sidewalk

not for my mother and her back

but for my sanity–

I’d rather my soul fly

than my spirit fall.

 

December 23, 2015

The Return

The

extraordinary

powers

of letting go,

magic

of feeling pen

on paper skin–

we are all

cut out dolls

made with razor sharp scissors

let me

let go

and make my art the way I want to.

 

I will whisper away

those sad navy blues

and caress them with specks of gold

found only at the bottom of the ocean–

a place

where all artists can drop their ink

and return

home.

 

December 4, 2015

I, You, and Me

“There’s no need

to play with my heart.”

I never realized

just how badly

you hurt me

But the beauty

is that it is not “me”

that you hurt.

I am human,

a continuous self

not stagnant,

sitting on a shelf

I have learned

and I have moved

away

from the erroneous notion

that “I”

is a real term–

we are all connected

please show me

in the times my past

comes creeping up into my chest

that the pain is worth

the sunshine I still see

outside my window,

the candles lighting my table

they sit

honestly,

knowingly,

unquestioning

of past boyfriends and best friends

who seemed to know what was best for me

when I was a “me” without a voice

Now,

I am heard

we all have something to say–

first to ourselves

the memories will still glitter

like gold

as I crumple up the ugly

into ashes,

for my soul has always been clean

You were 

always hurting,

for you were

are

human, too,

on the brink of an island

of our childhoods,

our teenage, innocence-tacked

to-naivety

years

have gone by

and I feel like the only thing left

to do

is to not to forgive and forget,

but to forgive…

And then hurry on back

to my “me,”

our “us,”

now.

..

inspired in part by the music of Noah and the Whale 

.

April 5, 2015