ALONE

Sometimes I sit alone in utter darkness...
The sun is shining and I see happiness all around me.
I can't share in it, my soul is sad...Distracted.
The light laughter can not penetrate my mood.

I feel like an Eagle that can not fly.
Sad as a sparrow who can not sing.
I run and I run to reach the right path...
and smack into a glass wall that peers into a forest.

It's beautiful and vast...but I can not express my joy...

Jennifer Lynn Clark  2016 (c)

It seemed so much as no new and uncommon thing
   that what passes on as only a disappearance,
   is but a temporary postponement of something
   long withheld in feelingfulness, in treason of one’s
  desire or simply, a hand which is there, or kept in a pocket
   scouring for loose change, a hand which, somewhere,
    is known in accurate proprioception: refusing to be held;

  I swim against the current not
     for the water behind your river
     that dreams of fish

   I wake not underneath the bowl
      of moon slated by sensorial howl,
     whose wounds are white like
      a face once held in between palms

  and sleep almost endlessly, together
    with everything that twitches, slewing
  to avoid collision, alliterates to blur meaning,
     sways fervently to addle meeting

until we let loose a sigh, and unfasten ourselves,
   dropping pace and both our eyes meet.

I’m scared
to be like my father
The way he fought his own seas
And drowned in them

Afraid to subconsciously
numb myself
because my thoughts don’t soften
to a dull roar

I don’t remember last night
But I know
for the first time in months
I didn’t think of her
As I fell asleep

Castle
Your mind and heart
your soul
is a fortress

sprawling walls
towers ad infinitum
built by every
tear
heart-flutter
and rage
you’ve ever had

You pile secrets into
the foundation
the crushing weight
sending pieces of the redoubt
and you
plummeting

one day
years from now
you will claw and sift
with bleeding hands
through the rubble

you once thought
were strong as stone

I had never envied
the water from the shower-head
that gets to cascade down
and touch every piece
of your frame

I didn't long to be
the sheets that get to
feel your breath slow
as you drift to sleep

I never saw the use
for a photographic memory
until I watched you
from the kitchen table

the sun shining through
my oversized t-shirt
your silhouette
perfectly outlined
as you sipped your tea

I swore that I wanted
to be that teacup
nestled softly in your hands
and against your lips