Here’s what is, what once was, and what will be.
I am what ‘held up’.
I am autumn tree after the fall of its last leaf,
I am volcanic ash dusted over the ruins of a city.
It may not look it, but I will once again breathe evident life,
For the best part of me is still here, I did not die.
I am the parts of me that survived tragedy,
Murdered the imposters,
Cut out the tumor.
Let me bleed.
Reasoning stretched to boundary,
And as gaping tears rip into being, you see me.
War-torn as ever,
I do not eat, I do not sleep.
Oh! But how I dream!
Dreaming of all the dreams indebted to me by Reality.
But in the blinding light of a child run free,
I didn’t realize my speed.
All the best parts of me,
Born of the fight to conquer what got thrown at me,
Now lie in the suffocating dirt of this cemetery.
Try as I might to resist what is, my washed eyes burn thinking of what once was,
For I know –this is all that will ever be.
The light I had,
Choked out,
Extinguished by the grave.
I always thought I’d live to dream another day.
What a fool I was,
“The best part of me is still here, thus I cannot die.”
Now I recall the years I neglected food and I neglected sleep.
Though I kick and cry, as I am dragged into this permanent sleep,
I know, this is repayment for a life deprived.
Now I know,
If you do not sleep, you cannot dream.
Here lies “the best part of me”,
Asleep in this coffin, it too did die.
I'm not a poet, I never intended to write. I am a lover of poetry, I wanted to read. But I think I became greedy and wanted to be part of everyone else's beauty.