I Am Drowning

I Pull Old Wounds

It reaches her.
It is the smell of burnt dreams.
She    reaches, pulling old wounds,
rotting, decaying flesh. Decrepit.    Blistering.

The acrid odour reaches her
sour swathes of emptiness.
        Forward, bones creaking from disuse

And sparks.
The flames start.
Burning,   at last.
The ashes turn,
And no longer does this acrid smell reach her

rather, swathes of empty to fill.
She starts again.

 

(After 2 years, maybe more, I have finally written a poem.
Not completely satisfied, but pretty pleased anyway, even if I say so myself!)

I Want No Distractions

11 October 2016.

Well I think it’s safe to say I lost my way a little.  30 day prompt has turned into quite a few months (9 months, but who’s counting) prompt. But not to fear, I’ve found my way back (for now). I suppose in some ways the timing is just right for this.

4/30. Future: Where do you want your future self to be? What do you want to overcome, what characteristics of yourself do you want to do away with?

I think I’m a little strange. I don’t think of where I want to be in the future. Sure, some things (quite a few things) about me I want to improve, my relationships, my sense of self, but where I’ll be… I just kind of float along with wherever life takes me. It’s a funny thing. Final year of university and everyone asks ‘so what are your plans?’ and they’re met with my blank face and a sheepish ‘I have not a clue’. And I truly don’t.

It’s  question that has been swimming around in my thoughts for quite some time. 5 years? Maybe more? Ah, the flaws of our education system. Asking an 18 year old to decide on what they want to be, who they want to be, nope, not buying it. I’ve made some mistakes and bad choices but someone recently said to me, “we learn from these things,” and I suppose they were right. I know they were right.

And yet I’ve never had clear visions of where I want to be. Sometimes it’s as if everyone but myself has that one thing that aspire towards, that one thing that means more or they are naturally better at. I don’t. I don’t have that one thing that drives me. And it occasionally makes me wonder if I’m somehow a little broken. I guess we all are. Or do people just fall so into something, it becomes their focus and maybe that makes *them* a little broken?

It’s all a little hazy. It feel somehow out of reach, to have a goal when even tomorrow is unpredictable. I suppose the sensible answer is that I’d like to have a job, have a husband, kids maybe? Definitely travelling the world at least once a year. All the usual things that make life, life. A life to me at least.

8 February 2017.

I started this post a long time ago and I’ve left it as it is. But my entire perspective has changed and I have changed. The death of someone close to me has made me so aware of certain things – Namely, that where I’ll be and who I’ll be in the future does not matter. What does matter is that I have the people I love around me for always, that I strive to maintain our relationships no matter the distance between us, that I put in the effort to reach out to people.

It’s an astonishing thing to realise how lacking you are in certain ways. I am somehow stronger after losing this person, but at the same time I look to myself and wonder if I will be able to hold onto this clarity I have on how to better myself as a person as time moves on. Because it’s going to shape me to some degree and then I will drift along again, aimless. And I will be numb. And soon the reality of life will hit again and I will lose another that I love. And the cycle will start again.

This is the reality of the life we will live and to try to forget. Death surrounds us. It is inevitable. And it is when you think of death that you realise who you want to be. Because the person you leave behind is all you will be remembered by. No amount of distraction will take away our inevitable.

So:

Future: Where do you want your future self to be? What do you want to overcome, what characteristics of yourself do you want to do away with?

I am tired. In my soul. I haven’t reached even a quarter of a century but the earth is full of vileness and hatred. And it makes me tired. I want my future self to be self-aware. Of herself. Of others. Of what others are going through. Putting herself in a place where she is able to help others. I don’t want to overcome things, I want to be able to learn to live with what surrounds us and shapes us. And I want to be able to live with the choices I make when life throws something at me. I would like to overcome two things that come to mind though: 1. My procrastination skills. 2. My ego.

I want to have a balance in my life. Just walk down the middle road and be content with what is given to me. That is it. Just be content with what you have.

I Cave In

With gritted teeth I tear at my chest and dig
bits of bone and flesh flying
only to find the heart empty.

And through tear filled eyes I blink at the remains,
blurred feet and blood pooling.

Drip.
Drip.
Drip.

And so there is nothing to do
but stitch together the remains.
The thread protrudes, scars bold and evasive
but the thread is strong
the mould holding

And so to the sky, tear filled, hazy eyes
                               I let the air brush my cheek
   gently
And mournful howls rustle the leaves
                                 the  heart  is  pounding

And you latch on to the moment
This cavity feels full once again.

I Dream of Bliss

A dead heart.
Blackened and rusted, these sins have darkened
every crevice

and the gates of hell are closed
and burning embers flee for a moment,

Eyes shut. To charred flesh giving way for Gardens of Bliss
if only the chance is taken,

While the devils are chained up
and the gates of hell are closed.

Life can return to the dead and flaking heart.

 

I Look for Reason

Cradle this vessel between your palms
and fill it

Until blood overflows from the emptiness, this lifelessness,
cold and colder, fill this vessel with warmth.

Cradle this vessel between your ribs
and fill it

Until the dark is dragged down
and gratitude is spaced within your chest.

I Fight Demons

There is a voice in my head that tells me only You can fill my heart
and the demons inside me fight it.

And I fight the demons

Knowing their whispers bring my destruction.

Sowing seeds of doubt, delicate stitching,

With thin, black string warping the tendrils of my heart
and thoughts flitting past,

I cannot catch them.

Fearing the day the blackness within me finds it’s way to my tongue,
after all, the soul emerges through conversation
and the tongue is a powerful weapon that can sow your destruction.

And I need to find the strength to fight them.

I Flounder

A path weaved of many paths,
Borne from the actions of one and the thoughts of another.

Labyrinthine.

Twisting and turning, carving, walls towering, ensnared from every side, keenly observing. Which path? What will be and what will become of me?

Valleys sweeping low through the hillside, paving the way through dense fog, stumbling. Or climbing, over dark and heady air, breathe and breathe again, in and out.

Inhale the the sweetness of the coolness surrounding me.  A warm embrace guiding through the unknown, so many paths to the one destination.

I am not convinced of the path ahead. Two steps left, one step right. A puzzle missing pieces, no victory, no conclusion in site.

Yet to stand still with so many opportunities. Only a fool stands still.

Take the first step.

I Fill My Heart

He never disappoints,
No, never.

His Love drowns you until you weep for reasons
that reason does not understand,
A bundle of flesh and blood crying out to your Lord,
‘Let me love You! And fill my heart with You!
You never disappoint! No, never!’

Time passes as through a sieve,
Months and years pass as moments
until that moment is life.
And people come and go, and people love,
but people lack the strength to fill my heart.

He never disappoints.
No, never.

I Am Worm Fodder

Who dared to tell me that I am more then I am and what made me think that I am so significant,
When once I did not even know I existed and once I curled into the warmth surrounding me,
Dependant on one I had not yet met although I instinctively recognised her as my mother.

Today, I am aware of my existence yet tomorrow,
I may be worm fodder.               Six feet under
and these bones clothed with flesh will blacken until I am unrecognisable.
And those who love me will not know me.
Tomorrow a home will be built upon my bones
Not knowing I lie underneath,
Once thinking myself so high
Yet just as those before me,
I returned to my Maker.

I am worm buffet.                    Six feet under
and tomorrow I may return to my Maker.