Floating
Like an astronaut
In the depths of my own mind
Devoid of anything but
Bitterness

Searching
For who knows what
In the vastness of my own home
Or so it’s called
But what do we really know?
But what really knows us?

Falling
Like a meteor
In the weight of the unseen
Heavy from the questions
And the answers

A familiar garden.
Irises quietly ponder,
Tulips shyly unfurl,
Daffodils chime with glee.

Each seed buried and broken,
Carving paths and
Gasping for breath.
Sunlight in small doses
And rain in large.
Relentless battles against those who
Grew faster and taller but
Fell much harder.

A moment of flourishing
From a thousand moments of nourishing.
Petals soaking up
The glory of the day and
The tranquility of the night.

And as the season concludes
And the seeds fall once more,
I have faith
That my sacrifice will once more feed
The familiar garden.

Cautious and steady, yet dangerous
With only the touch of her hands.
Laboring, never pretty.
Always gentle.
Calloused from the weight of
Her home,
Her sacrifice.
Her hands, always giving.

Lather, rinse, repeat:
Each time an opportunity to start again.
The soft curve
Cutting through my pain.
Strong and firm, yet merciful.
Comforting, never automatic.
My body’s lullaby.
Her hands, always giving.

I mprints
N ever to be discovered.
V oiceless.
I nflicted by
S elfishness and
I nhibition.
B ut is it my fault?
L ove makes me feel like I don’t, like I can’t
E xist.