You Are A Journey

You are a journey and I am a traveler,
weary with wandering in circles
with no destiny.
You are close,
I stretch, pull,
barrel through
for miles, then find
I am far from
where I started.
My ribs have ribbons
stitching them together
to patch my bleeding heart.
I close my eyes
and pick a path,
then turn in stunned silence
when I find the distance
my feet cover
lead in broken patterns
to Your gate.
I toss about the wind,
let it send me spiraling
through Your land and
pray You do not
discipline trespassers.

Unstitch My Skin

I, too, have travelled to the black abyss. I know its sharp, steep descent, the layer of loss that adheres to your skin, thick and palpable is the despair.

I’d bend myself backwards and unstitch my skin so it is your pain I’m wearing, and you could have my heart that holds the moon at midnight, calm, leading waves across a still and understanding shore.

Hold On

Where is the enchantment we are meant for? Where is the sharp pain of beauty so bright and bold we shake in our souls to see it?

We try to share our stories, bled out in paper veins, connecting the pulsing channels that should tie us to one another. But we lose the connection, severed sentences that dry us into machines, automatic thoughts, acceptable feeling.

Fade to gray, the clouds come in, rolling over the air that stretched our breath, our own unique desire for something brighter than this world offers.

It is a continual search of soul that comes up empty. A numbness that settles where our hearts should be, and in the disintegration of color, muted life dulls our dreaming eyes. We set our sights on the horizon, only to find a wall the height of the sky instead. We cannot pass. The only life left in our bones is a dull throbbing that pulses every few seconds, reminding us to somehow hold on.

Hold on. For the sake of your soul, hold on.