all resolution is slippery,
the firmer the foundation,
with pilings sent deep,
the swifter the undermining.

there is an inertia
in drawing breath that becomes
an immovable focus intent
on repetition alone, always
leading to itself; call it
the myth of life, for this
temporal existence stands
far from our true being.

so says the sage, planting crops
so says the priest, spinning comfort
so says the banker, theatre tickets in hand
so says the poet, eyeing his words
so says the parent, with blind instruction

stand mute before your needs
awareness doesn’t amount to much,
nor does anything else.

Somewhere in your lecture, you say
"you have addiction problems"

you don't know how right you are
but you don't know how strong I am.

I have fought pills, cough syrup
energy drinks and cutting
and you'll never know.

but I've won.

I may have addiction problems
but I ain't gonna let morning tea turn into one.
I trust myself more than you ever have
and that's what's helping me learn to love myself
and beat those addictions.

so drag me down all you want,
but all it's doing is helping me stand tall
(and showing me what I can defeat,
by getting me started in the first place)

you stuffed the sharpest fragments of your past
deep into the pockets of that green coat
so that they couldn’t pierce you anymore

sometimes in conversation, your hand shifts towards a pocket
I give the gesture attention, so you go ahead and reach in

the memory you pull out, you hold before you like a line-up
I tell you I’m not taking mental-picture mugshots

all I want is to hold the parts of your past that hurt the most
and grace them with my tears

for when I look at you, I see a girl with the courage
to pick the broken fragments of her shattered self off the floor
and piece them back together

I see a girl who dares to ask the deepest questions of life
because she has already been broken
and is not afraid of the answer