You Needed To Hear This

You Needed To Hear This

Enough now,

lay down the weight which you carry,

nobody is owed the heaviness of your soul

and there are other ways to find justice

without holding on to the hard places.

Enough now,

this burden of proof doesn’t belong

to the heart that knows the truth,

whose body shattered into pieces

reflecting someone else’s shame.

Enough now,

name what hurts and let it be,

these wounds may be deep

but do not silence their screaming,

they were never the enemy.

Enough now,

who said you have to do this alone,

healing comes collectively, like a universal truth

and love, it’s time to come home.

You’ve been gone long enough.

Saviour

Saviour

I do not want me,

my brain rejects every organ of this body

and bleeds out acid rain.

Joy ran away,

caught a boat across the ocean

now I’m stranded on the bay

with a raft built from rotten wood

and a single bullet

to either bury myself where my soul breaks

or shoot for an SOS.

I’m stuck rooted to the spot,

like a dead weight drowning slowly in quicksand

unsure I rate this life high enough to save it

as the storm cloud approaches along with my fate.

A lightening strike splits the clouds,

allowing space for the heavens to open

as my own hand reaches down.

Groundwork

Groundwork

I would like to rely a little more on myself

and not see hope as a chore,

like eating healthy or being kind to my anxiety,

something other than just coping

when lack of sleep slides into the bed beside me

and swears he’s the only intimacy I’m worth.

Can I place a hand over where it hurts,

yours or mine, or both together,

allow scars to touch bare skin

without lying about their origin,

my longings and wishful thinkings,

mistakes and misplaced trust.

Of the things I find hard to accept,

the most difficult is knowing

how the next steps require

I must let go of them all.

Brainwork

Brainwork

Meandering around the back alleys of my brain

the dark accentuates the corners and amplifies the space

left for the odd socks, neglected ideas

like pennies that drop out your pocket,

falling between the car seat and the door,

the lost and found fashion of mismatched PE kit

and school pumps that stick to the gym floor.

The cleaners don’t come here, dust lies so thick

I could make a snow angel with it,

constricting rusty daydreams of the place’s potential

like an amateur home improvements TV show.

Being alone is not the same as being lonely

and though the air here tastes stale,

it’s comforting to be away from the restless nerves

my body becomes a slave to, under pressure

to play the game, this world’s trivial pursuits.

I think I’ll visit myself more often, being back some food

for the frightened mice who find solace

in this hideout too, maybe we’ll share a picnic,

finally sit across from our fears

and talk until we forget

which of us was taming who.

Equilibrium in Motion

Equilibrium in Motion

This is not a war

and there is no you outside yourself

to fight.

It’s just the passage of thoughts

and fleeting feelings,

laying themselves to rest for awhile

inside an impermanent body,

which you also inhabit

as an everlasting spirit.

Part of being

is life becoming,

all in this together,

and nothing in nature is exempt from this change.

So notice how we change with you,

refined for our next revolution,

even the rivers and streams have currents.

Vigil

Vigil

This should feel like bliss,

like it does for him

except you’ve gone from tired to high alert

in the time it takes to drive

the five minutes back to his place.

His sweet embrace does nothing

to change your unconscious response

to different bedsheets

as insomnia replaces your ability to sleep.

Counting sheep hasn’t worked in years;

they’re just prey, after all,

to your predatory fears come out to play

and your mind is a coward,

feeding you to the ghosts

for your usual dose of triggers, growing like weeds

somewhere you’re trying to plant only seeds of peace,

but for the former to die and the latter to grow

they both need exposure to air.

So as he holds you close, remind yourself

that underneath this choking layer of soil,

somewhere lies a radical act of self care

and you’re prepared to take the hit,

maybe eventually your body will switch off

and dissolve these flashbacks bit by bit,

maybe one of these days you’ll sink into the pillow

next to him, reaping what you sow,

his gentle breath on your neck,

in a bed that feels like home.