The overcast skies drag me
onward, onward
     into despair
The chilled wind sings me
deeper, deeper
    towards slumber

for years I prayed to a God who isn't there,
when I stopped,
I saw the raven in the church hall.

As I swallowed my miseries,
          the pain consumed me,
          the weakness nipped my heels,
I felt fear.

As I sat in the hospital bed,
           the ocean drained my sorrows,
           the needle pierced my soul,
I felt weakness.

As I closed my eyes in group therapy,
            the sins of others spoke to me,
            the sins of myself consumed me,
I felt nothing.

But as I sat in the caged courtyard,
             the wind embraced me,
             the sun caressed me,
*I felt peace.

do not tell me that my sickness is fake
because I know all too well
how it feels to be
bound in chains only I can feel
with a terror only I can sense
vines around my throat
muffling my cries
and gasping for breath with plenty of air around

I am a child of the wind
turbulent and cold
inviting and warm
*I bring storms
I bring rain
I bring comfort
I bring destruction

I am a child of the ocean
*undulating and cold
peaceful and warm

life will get better
then worse
then better again
because life is not about
consistency
it will change
it will hurt
but it will be beautiful
and broken
and incredible
and horrible
and *worth it

When you're lying in bed
wondering
asking
how am I going to keep living
remember that you're here for
wondering
asking
*how am I going to change their lives

When every thought makes you cringe
then you will understand
When every rock is a body
then you will understand
When every hand is a nightmare
then you will understand
When every touch makes you cower
then will you understand
Do not dare tell me we are the same
*until you truly understand

theres another poem around here somewhere....

I am sad and
I am broken
but I have tape
and I have glue
and I will put myself
back together
piece by piece

I always feared that when he touched me
he would draw back his hand in disgust.
Instead he holds me like old pages
chasing the foxes
he holds me like delicate lace
tracing each vine
and makes me feel rare
and beautiful.

Each night I ponder
on moonlit beams holding my hand
Each night I wonder
on sun rays dancing on dusty beams
And when
the wind shatters my porcelain lips, or
the stones callous my deviate feet
I feel comfort
I feel peace