(written 10/28, revised this morning)
movement, in swirls and gusts.
This too shall pass.
It will not be my forever.
I wake up groggy: last night
shoved, as broken glass
inside me.
In daylight, I'm petrified
that my screaming seeped
from yesterday into morning,
a yellowing bruise,
a black ink smudge through a vellum sheet.
Self, we must forget.
Just for today, naturalize it,
rationalize it, make it
normal. It is not normal.
So just forget, shove it
in soul pockets somewhere
a corner.
Prayers for forgiveness
comes out lip service--
Heart does not want forgiveness just yet.
How would it help, just yet?
Praise the wind.
stirring things.
this wind
all angles, shifting.
So I smooth on, with a steady hand
calm eyes-
to expertly apply distance.
Peel away from reality's risk,
to love--but not too much.
Be present, show nothing,
want nothing, lose nothing.
The top layer, on which I care and
laugh and feel, most convincingly,
beneath which, if things go on this way
-my biggest fear-
there will be nothing.
Praise You for this wind
tearing away at my
amateur gilding.
I have to feel it. Let it soak
through my arms and up my elbows,
make me weak
let everyone see it
steep in it
wrap in it,
grieve.
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