I can feel it sitting there
In the deep, dark pit of me
My story…or maybe stories
Trying to claw themselves free.
I push them down and down
And still they struggle to get out
Free from the darkness
That has trapped them so long
They fight up and out
Into the light for the first time
A few wobbly steps later
They stand tall, breathe, and live.
Look closely enough at something
It disappears
In its place, formless
A void of what was
What might have been
Look closely enough at something
Stay blind
To the beautiful forms
All around
Step back and look
Listen and see
Be surprised by all that is
Present
Amazing accidents in Life to be found
As to some lovely temple, tenantless
Long since, that once was sweet with shivering brass,
Knowing well its altars ruined and the grass
Grown up between the stones, yet from excess
Of grief hard driven, or great loneliness,
The worshipper returns, and those who pass
Marvel him crying on a name that was, –
So is it now with me in my distress.
Your body was a temple to Delight;
Cold are its ashes whence the breath is fled,
Yet here one time your spirit was wont to move;
Here might I hope to find you day or night,
And here I come to look for you, my love,
Even now, foolishly, knowing you are dead.
The fragrance of you
In my mind inescapable.
The wind carries you to me,
Lavenders in the breeze.
In an instant transported
Back against your chest
Arms wrapped around
The last time I truly felt
Contentment in who I am.
Left alone, no more lavender,
The dark doubts creep in
Whispering their words once more
You should not be.
But I am.
And I will continue to be
Because one day, once again,
The wind will bring you
Back to me.
Midnight creature, lost and alone
All it wants is to find its way home
Never realizing away it has been thrown
When I was a child, I never thought I’d reach twenty-five,
I’d just never felt all that alive.
When I reached the age I’d never thought so,
I will admit for a while – it was touch and go.
Now that age I’ve moved beyond,
To life I’ve grown attached, grown fond.
But sometimes in the deep dark of night,
It can be hard to see the light.
The child once more takes hold,
And I feel like I’ll never know what it’s like to be old.
To be sure, I must admit I don’t want to die,
But, my old self, I’ve never seen in my mind’s eye.
My constant companion,
Never far from sight,
Always there for just in case,
How rarely you see the light.
An Idea of what could be, a future
For the two of us, you and me.
Grand plans created so alive in my mind.
In reality, likely never to be.
Untold stories trapped,
So many of them locked inside so deep.
Fear of Failure – lies told – doubt of oneself in truth.
Your unblemished pages, yours to keep.
Long after you are gone,
I feel the presence
of where you used to be.
I can still remember
The first day
I ever saw you
Standing there so
Self-assured
I filled with such doubt
Of who I was
And could yet be
But you always knew
Always could see
That part of me
I could never set free
Until the first day
I ever saw you
Standing there so
Self-assured
I was filled with such awe
Of who you were
And what we could yet be.
Together, you and me.
A day’s happiness gone
In an instant. The exact moment
I see your face, only can you such a thing do.
Your negativity reaching out,
Searching for a new victim to invade,
To spread out and propagate,
A never ending cycle, I am caught
Unable to evade tendrils crushing
The life out of me struggling
To breathe suffocating everyone
It manages to hold in its sway.
I get so tired searching for
A moment of peace. It’s so easy
To forget the bright start to the day.
Oh well it was so long ago it can’t
Have been the day. Perhaps I’ll
Just lay down my head, suddenly so weary.
Never to escape, close my eyes…
It’s like a sickness.
A raised temperature,
An unfocused delirium,
A feeling of coming death.
Midnight creature, forced,
Awakened at unnatural
Hours of the day
In a battle for survival.
A sense of nausea
Unable to be quashed
Temples pounding, unyielding,
The coming of the sun.
The early bird,
Gets the worm,
Yet the moonlit tiger
Catches the larger prey.
It’s been a rainy couple of days lately, and I couldn’t help thinking of one of my favorite poems to get me through it.
If thou of fortune be bereft,
and in thy store there be but left
two loaves, sell one, and with the
dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.John Greenleaf Whittier
akervand 