Tag archives: breath

Past the Credits

“A poem about disassociation”


Move.
My brain is here.
My body there.

 

I need to move.
The body doesn’t respond.
My body.
I am not in control of this.
My body.

 

A cracking blur
it sends parts of me
-farther down a road I can’t see. 

 

I need to push-
I need to break the world.
Something between slips when I reach.
A wall grows taller to capture my body.

 

I will fucking climb this wall until it comes down.
I will move.

 

The wall grows higher.
I can’t control
my limbs, my blinking: my self.
I see the body on the landscape, staring
my blood is cold.

 

With the discovery of my own horror
I melt down into the depths of my brain that should belong only to me.

 

Who else would they belong to? I was born with a body that fights back.
I didn’t know it would fight me.

 

I see lists of things that are out of my control scroll past like the credits at the end of a movie that should still be playing.

 

I see the seconds count down like popcorn falling into my lap. One by one, I see my fear swallow myself, but I can’t control my throat to make it sink faster.

 

I don’t know why I need more beat for my heart,
but here I am
climbing walls going down.

 

But I give
I give my gasping breath for
another minute for
another second with my child.

 

I’m breathing with my own lungs again.

 

My blood is here, not for pain
not for a reason given from a faraway God
but for love of my one child of mine.

 

I’m ready for the next scene.

Life in a Flicker

“I’ve seen it all.”


Not every life is spent on the airy breeze,
looking for the holes of a tree to perch inside.
 
But the walls we draw around ourselves,
make us hide from the roads that wander
and our patched kisses like grassy slumber
waiting for the soft toes of a child.
 
Photographs pull us into towers,
and the true affections  peer at us
from the night, as we draw curtains,
and our world shifts closed.
 
If you see it all, but never know
the heart beating from the oaks
or the tides bearing salty breath
or the snaking rivers gently woven,
then you will only know the stones
that stub your toes and make it rain
on the sharp world you flicker.