Of Consequence

Why am I always so afraid and angry? How can the two exist with such intensity in one place?

Maybe subconsciously I know I will mess up everything.

Others have done this, and now I need to add my words?

If I could get them out right anyway… there’s always a better way to say it.

I just get in my own way.

Who am I anyway? 

Why should my words carry any weight?

What does it feel like to be supported, to not have to beg for the bitter dregs?

The very thing that broke me — that still haunts and provokes me — gave me the power to walk away.

Image by No-longer-here from Pixabay

Distant Gunfire & The Coming Rain

When did I begin to fear the feel of long grass against my legs?

But we walk as the distant gunfire continues.

The air cools from approaching rain.

The four-leaf clover points every way, a sign that we should pause.

Through dragon-fly wings I can see things —

faded plastic, color lost to the sun.

tangled lengths of fishing

line and bobbles, discarded

lay about the grass and trees

Distracted by a lingering kiss I forget

the sounds of birds calling and cars passing

by outside of the tree line until

cold wind forces goosebumps from my skin

The path beckons us on but we turn back to flee the coming rain.

Image by S. Hermann & F. Richter from Pixabay

The Breaking

I keep pouring myself into hope

only to be crushed by the wave of loneliness…

when will it break?

When my predictions are borne out,

I don’t want to be right.

I don’t want to be right.

When I try to keep the faith,

when I give my fire to feed the flame,

I’m left standing with these ashes in my hands.

It’s like you expect me to give and give and give to you,

give my life away and not receive a thing.

Tell me how I find balance when all my strength is on holding the pieces.

Letting go of your hand, not caring if I fall or if I stand,

running to the wave that would crash into me.

I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again – this won’t be the breaking of me.

Image by nahid hatamiz from Pixabay

Dark Hours

I remember the world felt young

As if anything could happen, anything be done

And when I thought of who I’d become

I didn’t see these years, I didn’t feel this numb

You’ve got a fighter, a fighter on your hands

And those wars that made me what I am

are still in play

I survived those dark hours and I’ll carry on today

Image by PolarityFlow from Pixabay

Shadowland

The last time I remember

not being scared out of my

ever-loving mind,

was in a foreign land.

Fields of lavendar guarding

castle ruins

Butterfly wings beating

you might not hear it

but it’s a hurricane to me

make a scene

make a scene

make a scene

though I doubt that you’ll see me

I keep my distance

I see shadows when the sun is shining

Image by Игорь Левченко from Pixabay

The Ashes of Freedom

Open the prison doors

but my mind is still in lockdown

You pushed the lever that set the gears in motion

I’m an open flame

burn it all down

won’t you burn with me

I’m silent. I can’t speak.

shut down even when I’m awake

I can’t remember anything

maybe it’s better this way –

stay numb so it doesn’t matter when the words don’t come

what I enjoy becomes

a burden,

something to avoid

Burn this Candle

Burn this candle late at night,

when you see no hope in sight.

When the lights have gone out

and all that’s left is doubt,

burn this candle to give you light.

And don’t give up without a fight.

Even when the world seems dim,

live your life upon a whim.

Dare to be all that you can.

Then, look and see how you’ve ran.

You will see you’ve gone the distance

because you didn’t lose your resistance.

For one little glimmer of light

burned for you on your darkest night.

Burn this candle to rekindle your life.

ACR circa 2002

Image by Tapani Hellman from Pixabay