Spread your fingers wide, arms raised
towards the sky, like the sun
is pulling you to new heights,
to open spaces now that your hands
are no longer wrapped tight around your body
with impossibilities repeating.
Meet your feelings as peace doves,
treat their wounds, gather up their spilled blood.
Let the daylight soak into the scars on your exposed skin,
breathe in to your love coming home.
I drag this bin bag of broken body parts,
behind me a trail of blood
that seeps from the sac,
a steady puncture
from a perforated heart
wishing it’s owner was plastic.
It’s a choice I will make a thousand times
every day afresh, the pull and push,
can I turn to the care
to the love that is staring back?
You are free to leave
find another pulse to crave your heartbeat
but I did not brave World War Three
for an amputation, aborting possibilities
from the spirit glowing inside of me.
Let me treat you to a lifetime
of the softest words, sprinkled over skin,
I will patiently saturate each layer,
wait here till every drop soaks in.
Uncertain who is holding the other
but one of us forgotten, foraging through our home in desperation to remember
what we did not know so cannot name
nor assure this body it is safe.
Blessed are we whose bravery guards the doors and windows
long past signs of danger, so fierce in our defence
it greets each demon as a stranger,
sounding alarms to activate emergency procedures
when the threat is but a spectre
with unfinished business.
Feeble and listless, these spirits will float
amongst the source of their affliction and our sickness
until they find in us a friend.
The science says these shaking nerves
will spur on acts on triumph, that this pen
can script a new response to terror, defreeze fear
and bring this body back from outer space
to home, but what will remain, besides bricks,
when ransacked is the only place I’ve known?
Steady rhythm, pounding feet
and rising heart beat, caught in a battle of wills
with a maze of mental hills to climb
but covered in a sweat that is finally mine, from my skin,
a body I can again feel alive in through the out breath
where you left, no, where I left you
to starve on the side of a deserted road
with nowhere to escape my precious sunlight
and waiting a lifetime to be rescued.
Now it’s your turn to go through hell,
hear the bells ringing as your time has come
and I am running,
running with power,
power running through my blood.
Sometimes the only pain I can carry is the one that burns, that draws blood, because beating myself up is the only bearable unbearable way I know to bruise. Shallow breaths don’t support screaming, starving turns dark thoughts lightweight and lightheaded means less space to care. Wait till you see my bones and how the hurt just falls off me when it has nothing to hang on to, wait till you hear my heart rupture and rush red through my ribcage like it was running for its life. Then watch how love pours out my arteries and leaves when it believes I’m better off empty. You touch this frozen, unfeeling skin but all this shrinking means I shall slip through your fingers. Taste me on the breeze, somewhere not here.