Someone is drowning right now

in drugs
             in *****
                         in ***
                                   in food
                                           in internet use
                                                             ­  in [fill in the blank]
                                                          ­                                    endless cravings
Going down
                   down
                           down
                                   down
                                        the shaky steps
                                                        the­ slippery slopes
                                                          ­               into the rabbit hole
                                                            ­                                         d
                                                               ­                                         o
                      ­                                                                 ­                     w
                                          ­                                                                 ­      n
Loneliness?
               Brokenness?
                           Emptiness?
                                     Numbness?
                                                      S­orrow?
                                                          ­        Hopelessness?

Been there
              Addiction
                          Not shooting up
                                         Not popping pills
                                                    But devouring my addiction in masses  
                                                        ­           In order to fill the deep, hallow void
                                                                ­                                  Unable to break free

I envisioned the other day
                     That hope can fly away like a little bird
                                                 But it rests on the window sill while still looking in
                                                              ­           Like Emily Dickinson envisioned
                                                      ­         Still chirping its own song
                                                        For it's ready to fly back in
                                                  And roost
                                                
          ­                                               ~~~o~~~
          ­                          has wings
                   like that bird
           hope            
   For

Always chasing happiness
Seldom to stick around
Summer--it's too hot
Winter--it's too cold
Childhood--it's too long
Adulthood--it's too short and hectic
My aching brain can go in feverish circles
Longing, trying to find if happiness really exists
Or it just gives up in complacent surrender
Growing numb with doubt that it ever was real
After all, I belong to a society
That thinks we are forever entitled to happiness
Every minute of every day

But happiness isn't over there somewhere
Nor is it this or that thing that can be gone tomorrow
Too often becoming what really did not make us happy anyhow
Surely, happiness was never designed to heed all our demands
Never to be controlled or schemed  
No, happiness is a journey of the soul  
The ability to receive and to give love and kindness
It's discovery when you think you have nothing else to learn
It's letting go of the stones to throw
Not an easy road, for sure...but worth it
It's discovering what you can do verses what you cannot
It's connecting to a sloppy, messy world
And not expecting its perfection in order to live in it
It's the Divine touch beyond your limited comprehension
It's connecting and reconnecting with yourself
And being at peace with the being that you are

It cannot put pen to paper
But all a flower has to do
Is open up its delicate petals
Unfolding like a noble lady's fan
Broadening to blossom into a lovely jewel
Poetry without any word

A spider weaves its web
Like an author spins tales
It's intentions upon its survival, but
Its intricate home of threads and strings
Like a gossamer harp
Is enchanting to perceive
A make and design of fragile strength

The oceans and seas
Mighty and commanding
They roar and display their majesty
With crashing waves and splashy bravado
They spare few prisoners
And graveyards of sunken ships
Whisper of stories untold

Birds chirp and warble
With songs that humans long to know
For they travel through the air
In simplistic freedom
Their chorus of communication
Is a poetic symphony just as entertaining
As any band of musicians or artists

The winds blow and whistle
Though they have no mouths
If you listen close enough
You can hear their secrets
Their breath of life in the
Ever flowing
Breezes that enfold us

You'd swear the mountains
Were painted that way
Brawny and broad, peaked high above
Against the grand canvas we call the sky
Yes, paintings are poems, too
For a picture speaks a thousand words
But no mere man can make a mountain

You see
We are merely students
Taught by God's natural, creative genius
We are merely imitators
Of what nature displays
We are not originals
For we are not the first poets
Nor the first storytellers

It's the Grim Reaper
It's the Boogie Man
It's the wolf in the closet
It's the monster under the bed
It's the phantom that's chasing you in your dreams
It's the madman who dances delightfully in your brain matter
It's the poison in your coffee
Paralyzing
Petrifying and penetrating
A flesh eating
Bone chomping
Soul *******
Grave robbing Ghoul
Right within the halls of your head
Grotesque and greedy, it is
Gloom everywhere
An anxiety production line
Breeding anguish
Bleeding you out
Windpipe choking
Werewolf watching
Witches brewing
It's dreadful and dooming
It's horror at every corner
It's a newspaper dripping in disaster
It's a future forecasting fatalities
Your obituary in every new edition

BUT IT'S NOT REAL

A lifelong Michigander
I've endured my share of brutal winters
The ones that seem to thoroughly freeze you
Right into the cracks of your armor
You know, the toughness that you show the world
Deeper experiences than your skin, reaching past and
Down right to your bones

A woman seemingly designed for melancholy
I struggle and have to beware of making it my identity
For I am much more than that sorrow which has shaped me
I've endured my share of hardship and pain
You know, the kind that bandages cannot reach
And pain can feel like a gnawing within
Like the winters that penetrate you
Ones that reach your bones
And bone crushing, they do feel

But I'm no fool
And I use the pain
For in vain I won't let it become
For spring could not be so glorious, it seems
Without the show of its flip-side...a frozen reality

Joy would be meaningless to me
Without understanding the truth of
Disappointment, sorrow, hurt, loneliness...
gut-wrenching misery that all must face
At least once in their lives

Maybe it sounds cliche but....
The rain might seem dismal and unpleasant
But surely you bask in the green of its fulfillment
A birth might be agonizing for the mother
But surely the life brought into the world is the beautiful result

These are some of my thoughts, lately
The conceiving and jotting down of them
Help me to hold on when life doesn't seem right
Help me to grow beyond my comforts to reach up and beyond
Challenging me to stretch my faith into a bigger dimension  
While getting through the tempests of life