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Apr 2014
i couldn't carry my heart
into the cold of the emergency room.
it was crumbling between my fingers
into pieces they picked up
from the floor, placing them back
into my too-small hands.

there were too many pieces
for me to comprehend the too-bright lights
and the quiet that allowed me to hear
moans and cries of the woman next to me
telling the doctor that she took too many pills
to forget the fact that all her kids are gone.

she had her stomach pumped. i needed
my heart pumped back into place
so it could feel the answers to the questions
the doctors asked me, so i could have told them
when i said i didn't want to die, i meant i was
too scared to propel myself into the unknown
like that. but i was too scared of propelling myself
into the horror of the next day week month not to try.

i wish i could have told them why my pulse ached
when it pounded through my bones. i wish
i could explain that it burst like that because
someone touched the seams that were holding
my skin together, someone poked their fingers
into the soul of me where they didn't belong
and it pierced my heart straight through,

maybe then they would have listened when i said
i needed help beyond what medicines could fix,
there was a place where i could heal and it wasn't
in the suicide room of the hospital
where i could count how many instruments
hanging on the walls i could stab myself with
despite the signs that said this room was harmless,

their concern was so misplaced
that they told me they had no beds for me, that
there was nowhere inside this building i could learn
to pick myself up off the tiled floor, they couldn't teach me
how to walk if i couldn't remember where my bones
were supposed to go. they told me i wasn't unsafe enough
to take me to the psych ward because i wasn't standing
with my toes on the edge.

i wanted to tell them, i would if only i could find it,
could locate the place where my pulse echoed
through my wrist so i could stop it from beating,
so i could keep it from punching straight through
to the ache pounding in my bones.

i wanted to tell them, if they would listen,
that i couldn't breathe in the middle of the night
and if i didn't feel safe then, how could i be safe enough
to let me into the dark of that night alone
without any bandages to repair the stitching
that had come undone while i was breaking.
Loewen S Graves
Written by
Loewen S Graves  where it rains a lot
(where it rains a lot)   
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