Help -I’ve Fallen and I’m Trying to Minimize my Public Profanity!

I wanted to let reader’s know that I’m still writing. I’m in pain right now ( I DIDN’T fall!) I’ve had a strong and pretty constant hip pain which has affected my ability to work as efficiently as I would prefer. Related, I also need more sleep. And, yes, I contacted my doctor long enough ago that I will be trying again tomorrow.

As a thanks for your patience I will share a poem I wrote, and then read, for another event on zoom last Sunday, enjoy!

A three year old, holding a pastel pink two cylinder bottle,

small fingers griping at the center gap

I was a “double fister,”one might say.

Looking at the hole in the wall,

I feared snakes, I knew there was no escape.

I was imagining -for the first time-

preparing for the life I didn’t know

that life of complex, every.damn.day.fear, trauma

I knew it when I was berated for pretending, hands-to-myself.

She opened the car door, where I sat alone,

telling myself a story out loud to pass the time

as she packed that blue Chevy-Nova.

“Don’t do that!” she spat, you sound Fuck’n crazy.

Before taking five young kids into hiding,

based on a delusion.

Eight-years-old.

Orange shag carpet

in the middle of a living room

Compassion and fear battled as I crawled around saving people

because, that is what makes me human.

In this real family home, safe to be weird.

When scarily fragile started to stick to me,

when “in-need” was spit-balled in my direction,

I laughed, at what people imagined.

And raged in the privacy of what could be,

what would be, and what was.

Imaginations so shriveled

egos with cracked armor.

I was protected with imagination,

Imagination crafted a shield of empathy and understanding

though sometimes difficult to wield,

and occasionally cracking

In the face of death, I imagined the pain to bear,

Looking inward, I lost the song of my soul,

I made death give me a new one for the price of my company.

I am alive now, because I became a bored hunter,

preferring protection against the strikes of enemies

over the ability to strike them down,

like a knife, the weapon fear can sever

and it is only the strength of a target

that can defend against it.

Sometimes while crossing over.

If I must pay the price of fear,

or the price of change,

you need not imagine

my choice.

I will pay for change, in any life I am given

I won’t imagine any other option

Published by sickybeat

I am a writer with an extremely active imagination. I love learning answers to questions and what makes everything and everyone tick. I am a "Unique case, medically" if nothing else. I am flawed in my extreme aversion to failure (even when "success" isn't good for me,) but have come a long way in ditching the perfectionist mindset. I like people whose default setting toward others is compassion, an open mind, and honesty

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: