I’m sorry I’m so clumsy
Some days it seems like the world is fighting me at every step
And I’m losing the battle
I stumble over every stubborn staircase
I trip over my tongue like an uneven rug
Every new set of walls is a labyrinth I get lost in
Every move I make is disjointed and uncertain
My fingers and feet flail when I’m carrying precious, fragile things
And before I know it I’m sprawled on the floor
Surrounded by shattered fragments
Bruised and aching
Burning with humiliation and frustration

But I’ll try to be careful.
If you will be brave enough to trust me
I will try to keep my steps in line and my path straight
I will try to find the rhythm in the song of my surroundings

I will try to see beyond my limitations
My faults, my failures, my frequent falls
I will try to look up and see the beauty in the world
Instead of staring at my feet in fear
I may trip at times
But I will not be trapped in trepidation

I ask for your patience
I am trying to be patient with myself too
My best is all I can really do
And I will do what I can to be the best for you

As my space shuttle touches down on earth’s familiar territory
I find I have become more alien than human
Through my journey in the seemingly infinite darkness

I recognize the faces of friends and family
As well as the landmarks of my childhood
However as I remove my helmet, the fresh air feels foreign in my lungs

A language barrier has also erected itself in my absence
My words only result in confused glances
An invisible forcefield thicker than the atmosphere prevents my meaning from landing
Silence has become my method of speech
My native tongue doesn’t rest comfortably between my teeth and lips anymore

I try to remove my bulky battle armour of glass and fabric
It has shielded me from the assault of emptiness
And the weapons of rock and ice that quietly aimed and fired at my heart
Cloaked in shadows and stillness

I find that it is more difficult to remove than I imagined
But I cannot truly return to where I belong until I let its weight fall from my shoulders
And so I must
The steadying anchor of gravity calls me home and I must obey

A sunset sends a gentle wave of gold washing over a beautiful blue sky
The lake mirrors what it sees
Until the wave seems to have soaked everything but the black silhouettes of the trees and land
Time passes and gold fades to a darker blue than before
But now bright white stars flood the seemingly empty space
A firefly sparks wonder as it flashes its message of light in morse code
Frogs and crickets fill the silence with their strange music
As we watch the world change,
We sit side by side and create a multitude of ripples that echo soundlessly towards the horizon

I may be a mess but that’s ok
I’m just a rough draft
My stanzas may be uneven
My rhyme scheme nonexistent
But I carry the seeds of a masterpiece

These scattered scribblings will someday mature into defined and refined lines
My tiny wriggling tadpoles of thought will grow legs and a voice
They will explore territory they never dreamed existed

This writer’s block will topple off the edge of my desk and fall to the floor with a clatter

My words will burst through the dam,
First in awkward little leaks
But then in strong, steady streams
That leap forward into unfamiliar territory
With a laugh and a gleeful scream

These nattering notes will resolve themselves into chords and phrases
A motif will leap out of the disordered madness
Stumbling steps will lead to confident strides
And the audience will be satisfied

But for now I remain unfinished

Some nights I look up at the stars and see art.
I am struck by wonder and awe.
Their glow fills my heart and every crevice of my soul.
I search until I find the shape of two shining eyes and a smile in the disconnected dots.
I talk to that approachable yet unknowable face,
And strain to hear any whispered words it might return.
I see lighthouses in the sky.
I see a reason to stay alive.

Other nights, I look up and see simply spheres of gas.
Hydrogen and helium.
Lanterns destined to burn out and die,
Along with all the lights and lives below them.
Blindly surviving in a vast space that is too dark And too empty.
Mindless chemicals endlessly reacting while we Twist them into purpose and prophecies,
Empty promises.

But every night I look at the stars, I can’t deny their beauty.

This is my place of peace
The ocean meets the land after the same interval of time without delay
The steady controlled breaths of a stable planet
The leafy shields of the trees protect me from the fiery glare of the sun
But I still see its light dance across the water in a beautiful ballet of joy
I watch the clouds as they adorn the sky with their abstract art
Red wildflowers sing out through the passive murmur of blue and green surroundings
Their vivid contrast is welcome
There is a stump where I can sit
Where I can read, dream, sing, write, or just be present
There is a stump on either side of me where I can invite a trusted friend or two
To sit with me and appreciate the view
But I know that this place is for me
No one can intrude unless I allow them to
The trees are my guardians
They stand at a respectful distance but never leave their post
I know I’m safe here
I paint this scene to life in my mind whenever I need a sanctuary

Once again I feel like I’m not enough
Once again I feel the pillars of my identity being shaken like trees
Will their roots hold them firm and steady in the soil?
Or will they topple with a crash onto the unforgiving ground,
Leaving my carefully built structures to crumble into ruins?

Thoughts swirl around in my head like blades,
Their sharp edges dangerously close to nicking vital arteries that keep me alive.
But somehow I always survive.
Meanwhile, the world continues spinning,
Oblivious.

I try to ****** the blades out of the air as quickly as possible,
But each one rises again as soon as my back is turned,
An army of undead soldiers hell-bent on consuming my mind.
Still, I remind myself that this apocalypse will not be the end of me.

Though natural and unnatural disasters may shake my cities,
Through fires, floods, and famines,
I will continue.

When my foundations are all that is left standing,
I will build up from the bedrock until I can see new horizons from my tallest tower.
I may watch the blood-red sun set on yesterday,
But I will see it rise again far above these ashes.

When the promised hope of spring is swept away by wind and rain
When lifeless leaves are falling like ashes to the ground
When the frozen sleep of winter has muffled your voice to silence
When your ears are ringing because the sun is screaming
And your weary soul can never escape the sound

There is a fir in the forest
Its compass needles will stay firm and true
An evergreen chorus
It will stand through every season
And it will lead you safely home

When every other leafy pillar snaps under the weight of winter snow
When autumn sets fire to the safety of green and slowly burns it to brown
When the scorching heat has left you dry and thirsting for release
When the ice is surely cracking, the clear connections keep collapsing,
And you’re sure that in your lacking you will drown

There is a fir in the forest
Its compass needles will stay firm and true
An evergreen chorus
It will stand through every season
And it will lead you safely home

When the flash of colours through the seasons leaves you dizzy and confused
When the world just won’t stop spinning,
And time it just goes on and on and on.
When all the twists and turning have you yearning
For something to stay the same

There is a fir in the forest
Its compass needles will stay firm and true
An evergreen chorus
It will stand through every season
And it will lead you safely home

How do I write my own story
How do I use these margins as a springboard
That will propel my words across the lines of this unmarked paper
How do I shape a mountain out of the scattered boulders littered across this flat terrain
How do I create the spark
That will ignite this dry kindling into a blazing bonfire
How do I stir these stagnant waters to motion
How do I begin to carve this block of stone into a statue
That will continue to speak my legacy after my voice has withered away to dust and ashes

Until now I have coloured within the boundaries printed on the pages set before me
I have created perfectly generic and acceptable images that have brought me praise for my ability
But they were not my own ideas
The outlines were slipped onto my desk by well-meaning adults simply doing their jobs
I believe it’s time I graduated to a blank canvas

I want my colours to blossom across every inch of the space I have
I want to dabble in fiery reds, deep blues, and ultimately rich purples
I want my purpose to be seen in the aim of my paintbrush
I want my worth to be felt in the warm glow of art
I don’t want my paint to fall in aimless splatters
I want to trace the silver lining that has gone ahead of me my whole life
A bright arrow leaving a glowing trail behind
Cutting like a knife through the darkness

But now I see that the seeds of a story have already been planted in my soul
All they need is rain and sunshine, care and time,
Before they will spread beautiful leaves
And reveal an intricate network of branches for all to see

Another day
My head is hidden in the clouds and my feet are far above the ground
I can pretend I’m safe in an ocean of blue as long as I don’t look down

Deep inside I know I’m drowning
But I left all hope of help somewhere in the speckled lights of the city below
Or is it above?
I’ve lost all sense of direction
My internal compass spins in frantic meaningless circles

I’m paralyzed and I feel it getting harder to breathe
But if I shut my eyes I don’t have to watch the light vanish into thin air

My thoughts are confused
Past and future blur and fade like photographs from another time
Memories and dreams dissolving behind my closed eyes
Until only the present remains

My energy and motivation wax and wane like the moon floating somewhere above my head
I’m tired
But somewhere inside me I find the strength to swim upwards
Towards the sun shining in the lights of the city below

Rock rises and falls
Civilisations of stone that flourish then sink into the ground
The strained breaths of an earth constantly at war with itself

Glaciers and mountains form frozen scars on its weathered skin
Crushed and worn and beaten down by years of elemental abuse
Beautiful structures remain when the dust has settled.

Old and wise as tortoises
Their shells are mottled with brilliant white snow and evergreen forests
They pierce the sky and send sunlight spiralling in new directions

Steady
Stable
Sturdy
They are a testament to transformation

I think there’s a place for us
Sometimes I hear a whisper of a wormhole that will take us far beyond this broken galaxy
To a place where the static has ceased and no longer bruises our brains with noise
A place where our cities are safe and strong with skeletons of steel and faces of glass
A place where we fit comfortably in our own skins with no effort or shame
A place where shooting stars no longer dance out of reach but sing in our hearts
I think we could get there some day

Small shoots of new life poke up through the raw earth
The birds’ song can now be heard in the absence of the howling winter wind
Everything that froze and died and was lost through the long cold months
Has been mourned
And now it is time to begin again

Now it is time to let go and live
To plant new seeds of joy and hope
To enjoy the long hours of sunshine that have been so desperately missed
To remove the bulky layers of armour that are no longer necessary

It’s time for the world to wake
For every creature to shake off its snowy slumber
It’s time for every bitter, frost-bitten heart to heal
Such icy emotions cannot sustain their frozen grip in the warmth of the summer sun

It’s time for every tree to feel for its roots and find a foothold in the supporting soil
So it can propel itself towards the sky
And throw its arms up in surrender to its inevitable victory

And though the weather is wild,
I feel the winds of change blowing open the door to a new season

Music requires conflict
Confrontation
Force

Without the friction between a bow and strings,
A violin would simply be an ornament
An empty wooden box full of untapped potential
Surrounded by dust and dead air

Like electricity jolting through a motionless heart
Without the collision of mallets or sticks with the smooth skin of a drum,
There would be no resulting thunderclap
No rhythmic pulse
No heartbeat
No life
There would just be the steady tone of a flatline
The deafening ring of absence

Without the force of fingers on keys
No sound could be unlocked by a piano
The black and white shards of a scale would not dance up and down in delight
Like a happy puppet connected by strings to the master of its voice

Though appealing,
Passive peace alone will not result
In the ripple of sound waves that travels across an ocean of air
To reach our ears and our hearts
That moves us and molds us
Into more than we once were

The laws of physics
Say that sound can’t come from silence
Not without a catalyst
An equivalent input
Kinetic energy for sound energy
An alchemy of the soul

Music is the echo of our emotion
Our motivation
Without it there is only emptiness

I wish I could be a hero
I wish I could revive the hope in someone’s eyes by soaring through the sky
A shooting star they could wish upon for everything to be fine
I wish I was fast enough to stop every speeding bullet
From leaving every hate-filled gun
I wish I was strong enough to lift crumbled ruins of buildings and people
But sometimes it feels hopeless to even try

I wish my eyes were never blinded by the night
I wish my footsteps never faltered in the failing light
I wish I knew that the wind and waves were on my side
That they would never turn and seize me in their icy fingers
I wish I could trust the ground beneath my feet
To follow the contours of my intentions
And support me through every shift and shiver of this fractured surface

I wish I could speak so anyone could hear me
I wish my voice reverberated across time and space
To reach the people who wanted to hear it
Who needed to hear it
I wish that I could just as easily discern the thoughts and emotions of others
I wish I could synchronise my heartbeat with yours
Until our pulses aligned like two parallel metronomes
Keeping time as one in a sonic eclipse

I wish I could say the word and life would grow where there was none
I wish I could start every sleeping heart
Until we are all wide awake and wide-eyed with wonder
I wish skyscrapers of motion and emotion would assemble themselves at my command
Like a rabbit leaping out of a magician’s hat
But that is a magic that will never spark from my fingers or any wand within my reach

None of these are powers I possess
But this does not mean I am helpless
I may have a single stone but it can bring giants to their knees
I am strong and capable and powerful
I am a force to be reckoned with
I am choosing to use my gifts to make this world better and brighter
I am a hero

I am change
And the opposite of change.
I am the turbulent turning of the tides
And the repeating rhythms that hold them in place.
I am the relentless forward march of time
And the regular rotations of a clock.
I am the frenzied lunges of a caged animal
And the immovable bars that keep it confined.
I am perpetually in motion
Yet I am confined by strange laws and forces beyond my control.

I yearn for freedom.
I am enslaved by the grooves that hold this roller-coaster in its blind orbit.
I am exhausted by this robotically rambling train of thought that never leaves its tracks.
I am weary of this winding waterway that chases its tail in a helpless cycle,
That only leads inevitably to the same heights of hope and depths of despair.

I want to wander and know that I won’t simply return to where I began.
I want to write a new story where I do not already know the ending.
I want this story to have a real absolute ****** and real absolute resolution.
I want to break the machinery that has fused with my heart and brain and spirit.
I want to hear the scream of steel and hissing of wires as it is scattered into lifeless fragments.
I want to hear the roller-coaster’s final chuffs of protest as it grinds to a halt.
I want to know that it is finished and I am only beginning.
I want to live and know that I am truly alive.

I can’t stay here
I can’t run from reality anymore
This flimsy tent of white paper and black ink will not hide me from the howling storm outside

The cardboard cutouts of people that I’ve propped up against the walls of my mind
Won’t satisfy this ache for human connection
This painted scenery can never replace the mountains and forests I’ve forsaken
Their depth and dimension will always elude me
Unless I choose to step outside and accept their embrace
Bright hues of bright blue and yellow won’t give me the freedom of open sky

I can play whatever role I wish in this hidden performance shielded by stage curtains
But when the makeup is washed away
My identity will remain the same unanswered question mark
I may be safe from the audience’s potential heckles and jeers
But that is because there is no audience at all
I perform for empty seats because I dare not hope for real applause
The only answer to my voice is an empty echo that grows smaller and disappears

The statues I carve that guard these gates will never be breathed to life
While the stone that shapes their bodies may be stable and constant
They will never provide the warmth and will of a real person

No, I must escape

I must lay the cardboard cutouts quietly in the corner
I must take a final bow and leave this hollow theatre
I must step outside the protection of my stone sentinels
I must push aside the pages of my paper prison though they may rustle in protest
I must breathe the fresh air no matter the weather or season
I must make clumsy, fallible connections with other clumsy, fallible people

One day when I am brave enough I will invite them into my familiar sanctuary
On that day there will be no more masks or roles
The only part I will play is myself
I will release my voice into their custody and trust them to do as they see fit
But I will no longer rehearse for that day
The real stage awaits me
And so does my audience

Streetlights glow weakly in the darkness like mechanical stars,
A feeble echo of the sun.
Steel sentinels standing at attention.
But they are tired.
Their unsteady flickering pulses
Like laboured breaths weakened by exhaustion.
Each one is a tiny flame surrounded on all sides
By an icy black ocean of isolation.
Each one is a lone soldier of light
Surrounded by an endless army of shadows.

But each spark of resistance
Stands as a lighthouse in the crashing chaotic waves,
A beacon of hope
That fills a small space in the void,
Carving out a slice of the vast emptiness.
Each is a rallying cry shouted into the clamouring clashes of the battle,
A decision to continue.
No matter what.

And so they wait for the break of day
When the sun will rise,
And its natural abounding light will erase the darkness
Into a distant disappearing memory.