–I’d like to dedicate this poem to the woman I heard on the radio the other day, whose mother suffers from schizophrenia. Who said [paraphrased], “Thirty times, we lost her. And we got her back. And we lost her. And I grieved her every time.” ┬áThank you for perspective. And hope.

 

I am struggling
to live up to
my proud words

in my heart

I am floundering
this dry, lonesome season
outstretched like a crucifix
my feet affixed to a path

no choice

but to force forward
look to the East

But in my heart
I am not brave

and I am struggling
to live up to
my proud words

Not to the promise
I gave you
to love you
no matter what

Loving you is easy

Not to the truth
that I would offer
my very life

to help you
save you
resurrect you from
razor-sharp coral
you keep trying to
swim through

No, dying for you
would be easy

This silent passivity
being asked of me
is not

It’s not in my nature
to keep quiet
not fight for you

But remember
I know enough to know
that I could in fact
hack away at hardened
coral flesh til my
fingers scraped to bone
til my tears ran black
til it tore us both
in two

But what good would it do?

I know enough of sawing
souls in two to know
I can never do that
to you

But in my heart
I am not brave
and I am struggling to
live up to
my proud words

The Spirit says
I have to
otherwise
it is not love
and nothing short of Love
will do

I cling to that
when my fingers tremble
over keys I won’t press
calls I won’t make

when I burst into tears
at the mention of your name
when I recite poems
like prayers
when prayers are the only
Voice I’ve got
when the Void won’t
let me rest

I remind myself

Silence
is the love
you’ve asked for

And whether desert,
forest, sky, or sea
My Love
For You
Remains

True North
An eternal hoping
A resting place for all my
proud words