Awoken

Darkness has hung his heavy cloak outside my room.

And suddenly, as if the Moon tossed a piece of herself at my window to wake me,
I jerk upright, sticky sweat plastering hair to neck and face, trembling fingers massaging swollen eyes.

This nightmare could not have been more hopeless.

In a long, white lace gown, I stand at the back of the church.
Grief's salty tears rolling soundlessly down my flushed cheeks.
I clutch my breath inside my constricted lungs and watch you and her at the altar.

I am frozen, unable to flee the church, nor am I able to disrupt the ceremony and protest that your vows can't be for forever, that I am meant to be on that altar someday, that this can't be how the story ends!

Eventually, I accept that my attempts are futile, and I lean against the clean, white wooden walls of this church and watch you decide to begin a life without me in it.

The tears fall. They soak my lace and the red velvet under my feet.
And I weep until the Moon takes notice and wakes me.

Mountain

You did that and my insides were outsides for awhile, but I recovered.
Now I've got the rainbowy hope again.

You're gone and I guess it's OK because we see the same moon.
I'm all feathers and shivers and armor and future.

I'm standing tall, striding proudly towards this victory, whilst my strange little heart lays in the dew-licked grass and whistles about you and me.

I suck at the juiciest mango and my eyes flutter and I recall my head resting snuggly against the mountain of your shoulder and my hair a river cascading down your valleys.

I love you.

I can march onwards, beating my drum and forging my dreams, but one day I'll meet you where the sun caresses the waves and we can dance.

Transformation, WIP

Imagine!
I've discovered that all these ruthless anchors that pulled my veins and tendons towards the earth, are actually tools!
I can use them, not as weapons, but as machines to build my future.
That stone wall that kept me trapped inside?
I expanded it and now it guards against fear.
Those tears that fell every night?
I acknowledged them and they now convene inside to keep me afloat.

Guppies in the School

I don't drift into slumber because I relish the wonders of sleep;

I merely yearn for the fullest sunup and efficient moments of daylight

I might sermonize, and alternately coddle, my guppies in the school;

But when I surface, new skills will replace these weary gills.

Marching my feet against this new path, the packed earth trembles.

Swallowing down stale fear-crumbs, my gut prepares for the unknown.

I have You

It began, but never ended,
This mistake, so unintended.

I slide to the floor, wilted,
My heart in turmoil, jilted.

My loss is uncontended,
This pain of mine, extended.

Before sleep I pray it untrue,
But in sleep, I have you.

Mirage

My shoulders slump, bones parched and creaking.
My legs carry me across another dusty riverbed.

My eyes scan the endless horizon for solace.
In the distance, I spy an abundant haven!

Sprinting forward, I shout dulcet praises to my savior,
but collapse, just a skeleton in the sand.

I've been fooled, pained, and blind, in the time we've been apart,
And I have waited, thirsted, hungered, for the asylum of your heart.

So I raise my weary body and press on my lengthy hajj,
To a day when your embrace is no longer a mirage.

Is

Is this God's will?
A dove has landed on my sill.
An olive branch gently held in his beak,
And yet I stand here, unable to speak.

He brings the tool to provide my heart with peace,
I ask myself, is this the key to my release?

I thought that if my wish came true,
I'd have all the plans in place to start anew.

But here I am swaying in the winds, unsure of what to do.
All I know, is that I want to be with you.

If I Had Another Chance

It's all I can do to keep it suppressed,
With chains that sear into my flesh.

This pain is all that I can bare,
Only left, my silent prayer.

My sleep is filled with your solemn voice,
I live to dream, my only choice.

I clutch at memories, us twirling in the snow,
They seem so recent, although from so long ago.

If I had the strength to tell you today,
Of my love for you that hadn't strayed,
Of my unfaltering regret of losing you,
Of my apologies, so long overdue...

Then I'd tell of my dreams of you as King and I as Queen,
Where we lived in blinding bliss, our life serene.

I swear to the skies, if I had another chance!
I'd pull you into our old embrace, ask you to dance,
And promise your eyes would never hold another tear,
For as long as there's love, I will always be here.

Please, God, Give Me One More Chance

The Master of Puppets Has Not Won

As the seasons went round and round,
I remained a marionette,
Nodding mechanically,
As they labored to convince me,
That I would never make it.

But I could hear the Winds,
Howling outside my room.
They infiltrated,
Broke the regime,
And helped me,
Believe.

When at last I cut my strings,
I could not falter.
I had my own legs,
And the Wind's words,
In my pockets.

I have made it through the spring,
Soaring to astonishing heights.
And one couldn’t identify me,
As the string-puppet from before.
I have wholly believed that there's nothing
At all, that I cannot do.


But I've suddenly found that,
There are things that I cannot do.
And it is shaking the framework,
That I bled to construct.

I close my eyes now and can feel the cold chains,
And cruel words from the lips of the puppet master,
Trying to dismantle my belief in my self.
I struggle to stand tall.

I WILL SUCCEED.
I WILL SUCCEED.
I WILL SUCCEED.

But I've got my belief in my back pocket,
My next attempt will be ablaze with victory.
And I shall burn this whole city down.

Hope, again

People speak about hope as if it’s the water with which they can put out their fires.

I did this also, describing hope as a dear friend that would hold my hand and console me during times of need.

I called hope my window, ajar to the possibilities that lie waiting in a brighter future.

But hope has been a cancer, leisurely eating away at the contentment I create after loss.

Today I will stand on a mountaintop and declare hope as an adversary.

Hope has forced me to become a realist.