you are a ship

these feelings

of being stuck

seem to be unbearable–

it’s all connected

cyclical

dense

not me

what is me?

well,

it’s sitting under a tree,

maybe sipping some tea,

not minding the clouds

just letting all flow naturally–

see!

that’s me.

sitting in the shade,

not letting the day fade

you are here for one hour,

one year, one day at a time

in your mind

now you, my dear,

are a ship

and this house, my dear,

is your anchor.

you can sail freely,

without ever loosing your capacity

to come home.

 

October 23, 2016

Trees

My back

is strong

like a piece of bark

it has its edges

but it is stable,

it stands tall–

it is stillness

and silence

and me.

 

These elements

of control

have never been

my friend.

 

Illusive fears

of loosing

a self

that I had forged

by lack of force

the word loss–

I could write odes

to loss

and sonnets

to loss

and haikus

to loss

and I would still

remained

lost

in the same sentiment

 

Who am I?

 

Where do these attachments

leave me?

Where did I acquire them?

 

Did death bring up something

deep inside of me

that always needed healing?

 

An unknowingness of stability,

the entrance of doubt?

 

I am here, writing,

wondering,

thinking back to trees with hearts

written in their sides.

 

October 8, 2016

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. 

Flowers

These flowers are growing again

in my head

and like a vine

they neither swoop nor swing–

they cling

to each side of my brain,

try to determine what type of learner I am

but either way, thoughts can’t be pushed

out of the way

so I’ll plan out another day to pluck and prune.

 

For now,

let me sit, lay down my head and rest

let nature have its way

before I run and play, amidst the gardens

outside these walls; in each season

they grow flowers, all their pinks and blacks

and greens– they look familiar to me.

 

In my mind I see a mirror,

one I can’t protest:

an image of you, an image of me

and sweet, pink, spring flowers,

scattered at my feet.

 

Each petal falls so slowly;

I do not stand in their way.

 

I watch in perfect silence;

I pray for peace today.

 

February 28, 2016

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