Week 62

Sometimes I feel
Like I'm a vessel
Who is to be emptied
For the rest of her life.

So much energy
Leaves my body
That my muscles dry up
And every other night
Is characterized by
Migraines
Headaches
Abdominal pains.

Where am I rooted,
I wonder.
What water and soil
Cover my ankles
And nourish my soul.

I think the answer is
That somehow I'm a sapling
That made it despite
The odds.
It's probably why I ended up so
Brittle
And innocent.

I cling to the side of this mountain.
And as I look down,
the cold wind blows my hair around,
Drying me up further.
I look around for help.
"Have faith,"
They say
As they retreat home.
I'm left here
Staring at the stars
On my own.

Week 61

It's funny how landfills
Are made into beautiful grounds,
Golf courses,
Man made rolling hills.

I guess that's why sometimes
I put eyeliner on,
Darken my lids,
Give my lips that extra pout.

My heart is a voluminous
Collection
Of everyone's grief.
The thing about grief
Is that it doesn't decay,
You have to find some way
To incinerate it.
I searched and I searched
For some other way,
Turns out the only way
Was through a magic spell
Lost in the secret garden
When they ate the fruit of the tree.
How could they have known?

So it sits and it collects
And every day is
One more attempt
To let a little more of it go.
Until then,
It sits,
It stays,
And I cover it up with a little bit of
Black liner above my eyes,
A curl or two in my hair,
And my neverending smile.

Week 60

Maybe I'm one of those people 
Who just mourn
Slower and longer.
One of those people
Within whom 
Grief travels slowly through,
A barely perceptible trickle
At first,
So small and unnoticeable,
That they mistake me for a rock.

And then the trickle become a 
Stream
Caught behind my eyes, 
And I can hold it back
Redirect it through
The trenches of my rigid back,
My aching calves,
The constant headaches
From holding my head too high.

But eventually,
As all soft land does,
Everything starts to collapse.
Who knew that a few drops of water
Mixed with blood and grief
Could create this current
Flowing through me.

I pretend I am a dam,
But I am nothing more than
loose earth being swept apart
By the universe taking away
What belongs to itself.