she has learned to breathe,
and learned to survive ,
but her good days
are yet to arrive.

And with the touch of her hand, the wall became a bridge

Every step
An echo
Every breath
Wasn’t sure if it was the last

Walking through
Misery and pain
I catch the tears
Of a fallen night rain

It has been long since
The sky has smiled upon
This barren land
Which I once called home

Trapped
This broken heart
Has forgotten hope
In a falling star

Trees die
Flowers dry
Climates change
So will I

Animals extinct
Some lands sink
Worlds change
So will I

Feelings fade
Minds easily sway
People change
So will I

In order to heal from death
my child,
you must mourn,
and to do so properly,
in order to deal with the pain,
you must plunge a knife,
relieving the deepest ache of loss,
death is not in vain,

Cutting the **** deeper into your chest,

As I'm still breathing,
wise one,
I say alright,

Looking down at my lungs,
taking in some necessary air,
letting go of all my useless despair,

I'm amazed to still be alive,
& hoping to just simply survive,
with such life threatening wounds,

I take one last deep breath,

I remove the beating heart,
look at it pulsing in my palm,
dripping in cardinal red blood,
staining my skin,

I pull away a hand,
& I examine the sticky fingertips,
smear it on my face,
it's my war paint
mixed in with white clay,
right along with your ashes,

I am prepared to go into battle,

I am a warrior,
I would remove my fingertips
for such an important death,
as I make distinctive markings,
on your body,
so that I can find you again,
and lie with you,
your most,
beloved,

I prepare
many,
special,
& important things,
to take with you on the long journey,

You will reach the end,
at the long fork in the Milky Way,
3 days to get there,

And as you lie out in the sweet grass hills,
to talk to the children,
or become a medicine rock,
to heal the deeply wounded,

While I sing an endless mournful song,
& cut off my beautiful hair,
bleed again,
as I cut my thighs,
with a sharp rock,

I am stomping the prairie grass flat,
dancing in circles,
to the pounding drums,
yipping into the night,

I am chasing the dead,

I attach a rope to my wounds,
swing from them,
embracing the pain,
visions given
in the implications,
as music is drumming,

I close my eyes to see the flames
shaking my hands to the dancing licks,
my feet keep moving
find the beat,
the rhythm of life,

Extract the broken parts of my mind,
as some of your essence sinks,
back into your beautiful bones,

As I travel to the edge of loneliness,
as I try to find the end of it,

All souls eventually travel East,
to this paradise,

A lonely spirit tells me,
get on your knees
ask into the deep
wail into the pain,
lean in,
feel it,
retrieve it,
begin to even believe it,

Then pound an angry drum,
dear child
relieve it,

You must,
rail against time,
as you trust,
as you fly into the night sky,
in a blinded rage
write it all down
then gently turn again,
a page,
it's alright to cry,
& no,
this is not goodbye
just break down,
get hysterical,
scream at the night,
let it out child,
howl at that moon,
ask again & again of why,
run through the house,
with no where to go,
go crazy,

& then,
once your heart is healed,
you just come back.

Cherie Nolan © 2016

She is lying in bed–
        tucked under her duvet,
        wrapped in freshly
        washed sheets, breathing
        into the phone that I know
        is on her pillow–
97 miles from me.

It is her asthma, acting
up right on time, that
is keeping me awake
so I am lying, under
my own duvet, holding
onto my own phone,
thinking
        about the airways
        carrying every breath
        into and out of her lungs–
        inflamed, muscles tightening,
        narrowing paths
thinking
        that maybe breathing
        in the same cells, oxygen
        mixing with carbon, me
        mixing with you, you might
        be able to breathe
        a little easier
thinking
        that I know
        I breathe easier
        with you