Broken
I don't know how
a whole
can seem so shattered
shards
of me
a thousand pieces
upon the floor
I'm sorry
sorry for the mess
sorry for the waste
sorry to have come
sorry to not be able
to leave without your help
Sweep me away
stokes normal
stokes today
as they were yesterday
into a blue sky
where birds fly
and clouds roam
and the seasons
are as relatives
seasonal
glad to come
glad to go
I was not here
when I was here
so you said
So I fear not
that I will haunt
the place
the mind
or the heart
where I'm told
I never was
I wish you well
as I have always done
and may your days
be filled
with the things
I never held
could never give
And those words
of so many years ago
I did mean
2 comments:
Intense but in a subtle way, if that makes sense. Surrender, perhaps, one could designate, at least partially, as reason for that combination, a quiet, insistent drum, like a heartbeat, constant, lived with, known, owned. The apology (repetition emphasizing, each new like a suction) is agonizing. Like tears raining, though it is words falling.
I was not here
when I was here
so you said
So I fear not
that I will haunt
the place
the mind
or the heart
where I'm told
I never was
Poignancy defined.
Although I wrote that yesterday, it seems a lifetime ago, such are my days, where minutes seem like hours and hours like days and days like weeks. I'm living heavy. Even my eyes are heavy, which inspired the beginning of one of these poems. Literally, last night, my eyes felt heavy in a way they had never felt before, as if I could feel them in my face, feel them move--really an odd sensation, one I'd not felt before.
The passage you've quoted is more recording than writing. Opening the innards and displaying the guts, wet, bloody, throbbing with the urgency of minutes, minutes remaining.
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