I’m bargaining with my chronic pain.
How many years of my life would I
be willing to give up
if it meant the rest of them
would be headache-free?
Am I willing to become
who I might have to be
without my pain?
Someone who is more productive.
Someone with less excuses.
Someone who doesn’t nap.
Someone who isn’t held back anymore.
Someone who does uncomfortable things.
Someone who says no and sets boundaries.
Am I willing to give up
the familiar pain
for a different kind?
When you’ve been working
Going through the daily routine
Grinding out the same process
Day after day after day after day
Until you get lost midweek
Having no idea what day it is
Is it Wednesday, Tuesday, or Thursday?
Every hour at your job is one less you
Have to spend with your loved ones
One less hour willing to live at all
On the roughest days at a shithole
Nine to five for Uncle Sam to tax
Your taxes and tax those too somehow it feels
Living for a mere 48 hours of relief
There’s got to be something more
To this life, in this world that’s worth
Our breath than this
I woke from a dream
so real to me it was I
was scared after I
realized it was a dream.
It was like I was not in a dream,
but in a tornado again. I
was scared the way I
was after the tornado blew
my house apart with me
in it and my family in it.
It
was like it is for me
when danger is over–through
like it was during a drought
when I dropped down to drink and see
it!
a copperhead as big around
as my arm stretched across the stream
and I got up fast without drinking,
thinking
how scared in my dream
I was about
how close I was to danger,
and I shivered
about it, shivered…
Trust, I never miss just being an “I” —
yet you and I were never a must.
Before I combust, I confess —
the less you know, the more I’m
alone with the thoughts in
my head and they’ll always love
you. Even, up to, and with
my last breath. My
last breath blows out my own
flickering light. Light a candle for my sins.
Today will be a better day—
Where the coffee in the pot is half full,
and the lonely sock may find its pair.
The rowdy dog may miss the muddy puddle,
and the wind may spare my hair.
Today will be a better day—
Because the traffic light will turn green,
The rain may make the flowers bloom,
and all the worries that arrived
may find another room.
Today will be a better day—
and if not,
tomorrow.
Sweet girl
Led into a place
Where men tell you what God wants
Dropped in a public space
They send you out to proseletize
You ask question after question
Feigning interest in my life
But what you need is the accomplishment
Of being the one
To talk me into saving my soul
I don’t need your grace, Grace
I have it already
And I don’t need your prayers
That my heart change
Because my heart is full of Love already
And I’ve given up trying to convert the converted
