May 2015
On dark nights I lie in bed in hopes of a sleep
that will appease the uncertainties of my brain,
but somehow it rarely approaches.
Just close my eyes to what my world has become
and place me somewhere I recognize again.
Bury my feet in the sand, and let me dig
each crevice of my toes into the grainy earth,
sifting and scraping away the dead pieces.
I pray that when I open my eyes, I’ll once again
be surrounded by those I call my friends,
but I imagine that when lashes meet lid,
there’s no one in the distance.
A beach’s waves sing me a lullaby
each time they greet the shore,
and I’m comforted by the realization
that this is where I always felt f r e e.
Slowly I lower myself to the ground
and find a comfortable home against the shoreline.
My fingers find their way through the grains,
and as if they have a mind of their own,
their voice bellowing in the subtle path they form.
Before I know it, I am reading the words
“I love you”
in the sand.
An eager wave washes the letters away
and a piece of myself with it.
Relentlessly, they trace the earth again,
and the sanding of my skin cells stings sweetly,
and before the sensation grows painful,
“I am loved”
appears below.
Yet once again, as the sun begins setting,
the ocean grazes the shore in a soft embrace,
this time leaving traces of my work
but stabbing me nonetheless.
One more time I actively and purposefully
etch a last sentence into the granules,
because I believe with (almost) every part of my soul
that it must be a legitimate reality,
that I don’t wonder if I lie to myself
or if it’s just a rare moment when my old pal
Depression
comes creeping back to spread fabrications,
and I shove my finger so deep into the earth
I swear it will be covered in blood when I’m done,
but I have to believe in every syllable of the phrase
I wear over, around, and within my heart,
because if don’t,
I lose myself completely.
“I am happy.”
I.
Am.
Happy.
The salt may wash these words away,
but I’ll be ****** if they take me with it.
Just open my eyes to what my world has become.
Awake, I still find myself dreaming.
that will appease the uncertainties of my brain,
but somehow it rarely approaches.
Just close my eyes to what my world has become
and place me somewhere I recognize again.
Bury my feet in the sand, and let me dig
each crevice of my toes into the grainy earth,
sifting and scraping away the dead pieces.
I pray that when I open my eyes, I’ll once again
be surrounded by those I call my friends,
but I imagine that when lashes meet lid,
there’s no one in the distance.
A beach’s waves sing me a lullaby
each time they greet the shore,
and I’m comforted by the realization
that this is where I always felt f r e e.
Slowly I lower myself to the ground
and find a comfortable home against the shoreline.
My fingers find their way through the grains,
and as if they have a mind of their own,
their voice bellowing in the subtle path they form.
Before I know it, I am reading the words
“I love you”
in the sand.
An eager wave washes the letters away
and a piece of myself with it.
Relentlessly, they trace the earth again,
and the sanding of my skin cells stings sweetly,
and before the sensation grows painful,
“I am loved”
appears below.
Yet once again, as the sun begins setting,
the ocean grazes the shore in a soft embrace,
this time leaving traces of my work
but stabbing me nonetheless.
One more time I actively and purposefully
etch a last sentence into the granules,
because I believe with (almost) every part of my soul
that it must be a legitimate reality,
that I don’t wonder if I lie to myself
or if it’s just a rare moment when my old pal
Depression
comes creeping back to spread fabrications,
and I shove my finger so deep into the earth
I swear it will be covered in blood when I’m done,
but I have to believe in every syllable of the phrase
I wear over, around, and within my heart,
because if don’t,
I lose myself completely.
“I am happy.”
I.
Am.
Happy.
The salt may wash these words away,
but I’ll be ****** if they take me with it.
Just open my eyes to what my world has become.
Awake, I still find myself dreaming.
