Unlocked.
are there still dreams not taken
do some possibilities remain
or are we swirling in our own defeated waters
never to breathe fully again
was there ever really a time
I believed the world was mine
or have I always been swimming against the current
waiting in vain for some sort of sign
can you feel the troubles ahead
taste the change in the breeze
will you ride the waves of rolling grace
rising above roiling seas with me
another day has washed over me
leaving debris
old words, used wrappers, broken pencils, tired feet
trying to hold onto a thought
is as tenuous as holding a moth
if you try too hard
you end up with a mess on your hands
thinking tomorrow will be better
is as useless as
drinking the ocean through a straw
all the marks on my body and psyche
color my world
leaving a dusty view
this moment doesn’t hurt too badly
I may stay awhile
right here and now
going no further
not looking back
you may stay with me
dwell in the moment
we ‘ll brush off worries
set aside any discussion
since the only requirements
are to observe, imagine, feel
trusting you
to take me away
keep me sane
hold my thoughts
you’re catching my tears
with the notes
making an ink stained mess
no matter
the thoughts look now
how they felt inside
there’s a river
moving swiftly
with my words
you won’t be able to avoid them all
but I’ll let you distract me
with your eyes
telling stories
outside my head
visiting yours
a new view
for me to see
I forget now
why I cried
when it’s all so terribly
wonderful
I was right
to trust in you
missing you more than I thought I would
more than I should
taking time to wallow
is certainly dangerous
it’s not the obvious
the signs of life
the warmth of the pillow
the breath on my neck
the fingers grasping mine
no, it’s none of those
it’s the sweet quiet
after
it’s the look across the crowded room
speaking better than any words
it’s cleaning up after a meal
and making another mess
yes, it’s the signs of you
lurking in the corners
missing you and our time more than I knew I could
more than I should
holding you as sacred
in memory is certainly a danger
Sometimes we expose our softness
reveling in sensations
joyful, light, full of promise
and we get beaten to shit
hammered and cut and ruined
So we create a shell like an animal
doing everything to hold something
tender inside
while bruised like unwanted fruit
we become hard to all outside
letting peripheral hurts be deflected
If we’re lucky, something soft remains
letting in light and love
laughing in the face of anguish
pissing in the stream of tears
We write hard and talk hard
and maybe even live hard
but inside
we retain the softness
the precious that we entered with
we may take with us always
The Word Rummager 