I don’t want to be alone
But only to be surrounded by a sea of ghosts.
Maybe I need some help.

I’m coughing up puddles of black stuff
And I feel like I’m covered in bees.
Maybe I need some help.

The January sky has a pallor.
The snow is ordinary and monotone.
I blend right in;
I’m a vacancy.. I’m the void.
I think I need some help.

I would fling myself at the feet of the appropriate person.
I just need to find the appropriate person.
Someone who isn’t dead inside per se,
But happens to have a similar hole in their heart.
And really we should be dead by now.
Really it should be over and it shouldn’t hurt.

You’re half gone.
Your resolve wavers like the tremble in your voice.
I’m in a free fall.
I’m plummeting through floors of hospital rooms
Trying to find your SELF.

Losing you half way feels like a funeral in small parts.
I wake up each day hoping I might get to see you again
And leave having grieved for another piece.

I don’t even know if you can hear me.
I don’t know who I’m asking for
Help.

Slowly, eventually but all at once,
I realize that I’m it.
I’m the help.

I’ll sweep up my spine and claw through the fog.
I’ll come out of my coma to wake you from yours
And maybe if I dig hard enough
I can put some of you back together.
Maybe there will be a reason for all of this.
There has to be a reason for all of this.

I write myself
written March 29th, 2021

around the cracks in a window
through the looking glass
reflected in a tarnished mirror
sideways and from a distance
right onto the page
I write myself

in every tree and golden hawk
every person seen with my soul
every poem read and reflected on
I write myself

re-membering the dead
and secrets long kept
that I now declare out loud
I write myself

the lost-forgotten-sleeping
the denied-angry-hurt
the joyful-******-loving
I write myself

my present - my world
my head - my heart
that I hope nobody will understand
(or that I want them to understand?)
I write myself

a future healthy and whole
that I am scared to imagine
afraid to hope for or want
I write myself

connections to the world
physical - spiritual - natural
me reaching out to touch you
I write myself

My blood - My beating heart - My breath
all of my all
all that I am - was - might be one day
I write myself

I write to make solid
all those nebulous things
floating around and about and in me
I write myself whole.

If I drink from the empty jar, do I swallow
Will it be my pride, or the things I hide inside and cried over,
And if temptation offers it’s hand do I spit in it,
Do a bat my eyelashes,
Do I grin at it
Do I sin, and take hold of a dream up in ashes

If an empty jar calls me like a seashell song, do I press my lips to its rim
And drink from within
The drink that is desert air,
Dry as my skin
As empty as my hands
And do I grin
When it fills up again

Dreaming my life away
Every night when I sleep
At my bed
I am dreaming my life away
I must say that I just love
To dream my life away
Also when I dream
I see beautiful people
That I had lost in my
Life many years ago
And I must tell you
That I am missing
My loved ones
Also
But I know that when
I will die I will see
Then again in heaven
Because I will be living
In heaven by then
And I know that
My loved ones
Will be welcoming
Me to heaven

I remembered the lines
of her shadow, and wept

Every line was an ardent poem,
and I worshiped the poetry of her