What is it to weep ?

It is a sad poet who has no words to express the feelings welling in their veins, no way to leak out the madness which gathers in the corners of their mind and chambers of their heart. 

How, when the shadow strikes, does a wordless poet allow themself to feel, to weep? When they know it will still live there, roaming through hallways and edging down corridors; timid, ruthless monster. 

It has many names, this monster which has taken up residence within my senses. I call it grief, or loneliness, or abandon. Although, the years have taught me it’s truest incarnation is my old, timeless friend, rage.  

Blood Letting

Lets talk about 

Blackness and 

Blood and 

How often they go 

hand in hand

Blood being shed 

in streets

Blood being spilled 

at birth

blood being let 

in sorrow

Blood though, 

Our blood 

Is the oil that fuels 

Blackness 

Holds our magic

And it courses 

Through us 

Setting off eruptions 

As it goes 

Stumbling

It troubles me to think of the miles I’ve walked in my father’s shoes

Walked, stumbling, clumsy, uncertain

What pains me though, are the ones I’ll never travel

The miles he walked alone, fearful, in the dark.

My father is dead
He died while I was in a hotel in San Francisco
Drinking red wine and eating chocolate truffles
His last breath slipped from his body
As I slipped into a drunken haze
Happy, blissful, I was finally living
As he lay dying
There’s an irony to that
I have yet to put my finger on it
“I give up”
That’s the last thing he said to me
Text to me, and I breathed a sigh of relief
Finally I was free. Free of the pestering
Free to just be, live my life without any worry
Certain that he’d be there when I needed him to be
I just needed a minute to breathe
All these minutes are too much for me

My Grandmother’s Sweater

I’ve lost my sweaters
They held me close as I wept
Buried my face in their depths
When my grandmother passed
They held her too
Shielded her from the bitterness that winter can bring
Wrapped her in their fabrics and heated her
Warmed her creativity
Arms swaddled, her hand moved, penned words,
Poems, prose
I wrote in you too,
Took comfort from you
I’ll miss you
But will always have the echo of you in my mind
Warm fabrics, weathered wool
You held me, you held mine
Now, I’ll let you go

Love Song

I sing love songs to death
Only when the night is
Long and my mind is high

I call to her in sweet
Dulcet tones
Entreat her to come near

Let me glimpse her beauty
Time and time again
She eludes me

Refuses to come
Her ears continually
Deaf to my song.

Breathe

“Breathe.” She said,
And I remembered what it felt like to be alive.

“Breathe.” She said,
And I remembered breath is needed to sustain life,
So long I had been dwelling in the emptiness
Which hangs between life and death
Not wanting to live, but not ready to die
Devoid of wanting, empty of passion
The nothing space, visited only
By sadness and fear

“Breathe.” She said,
And I filled my lungs with air,
Felt my soul rush back into this body

“Breathe.”

Drive

I see her separate from the crowd 

I know that it is too much for her 

She has just lost a piece of her soul 

Not some miniscule chip, 

But a gaping chunk ripped cruelly from her chest 

I hesitate, then walking over to her  

I watch her light a cigarette. 

Eyes cast down, vacant 

Lowering myself beside her 

I know I am among the last  

People she wants to be near her 

This night has been too much  

These people have been too much 

I want to take away her pain

That is a thing which is impossible

But the desire sits within me nonetheless 

I rest my head against her shoulder 

 Asking softly, ‘what can I do?’ 

‘Just go home’ she says  

I nod, knowing that is not what she wants

That is not what I want 

I want to cradle her in my arms 

Tell her ‘come sleep with me tonight, 

We can put on a movie and you can sob 

Until sleep takes you in.’   

That is not my job anymore 

 That is not what she wants from me 

That is not what she needs.  

So I nod my head and rise from the stoop 

I say ‘take care of you, good night.’ 

Walking away I stare up at the moon 

Its’ silvery light casts a glow upon my face 

I think of you, I think of how happy you would be 

To see the people you love gathered for you 

Missing you.  I think you’d laugh though  

You’d laugh at the people who you barely know 

Who have come out and probably don’t even know 

Your last name.   

I am afraid that I am one of those people 

One of those pretenders, because I didn’t know you long 

I didn’t get to experience all of the wonderful things you had to offer 

I think that, but then I remember the times that we did spend together 

I remember the first day we met, I remember the dancing,

The laughing, the singing, I remember you. 

I miss you.  

So I wander down the street and I channel your presence 

And I give thanks to you. 

I give thanks for you. 

Then, I lower myself into my vehicle, 

Start the engine, and drive.