now I am unafraid

I have always been the last to leave
I’m counting down the days

green water rises
pulling me beneath

for a moment, I can see the stars
for a moment, I can breath

now I close my eyes
and see the world and sky collide

here, I find myself falling again
into sorrows, into depths
undiscovered

and in the dark
hoping that my emptiness
will both set me and tear me apart.

it is not sweet, but it is clean.
a harsh cleanliness only found in extremes.

and I wallow there, like a bird on a stone
watching his brother be cast down

I am afraid, I say.
afraid still
that in all this time I have yet to feel

may god bless you,
and god curse you

though I know he never will

for fear of feeling full

I’m wondering and wandering
my building’s full of ghosts

I convince myself I like it here
I try I sigh I do

the emptiness still falls
from the walls of my room

I am angry
I am restless
I am lonely
I am “full”

I don't want to go outside, not ever.
I want to stay in here with you.
I don't like the outside pressures.
I like our cocoon.

People ask if we are chafing.
Growing quarrelsome or cross.
And I laugh until I am shaking.
If ever I am frustrated, you are not the cause.

I have loved you for three years and will forever.
And, no matter what, all I see,
Is that I will never
be prepared for you to go from me.

I was thinking, if you live to be 80
It would only give me 45 years to spend with you
and though that is longer than we've lived already.
I still think it would be too soon.

I am stupidly in love with your smile
and the way we dance from room to room.
So, I'm fine if we don't go outside for a while
I like our cocoon.

For the first time in history
It’s the humans in captivity
As we’re told to stay inside
And cut down on all activity

We need to let earth heal
And repair form our damage
Its a message from god
For us to stop being savage

We are a guest on the earth
It’s the only way we can live
I hope once this is all over
We can all move on and forgive

In this time of uncertainty
Don’t think about just yourself
There are vulnerable people
Who are in very week health

If we all stick together
We can make this time better
And if you don’t understand
Just please re read this letter

Where am I?

For those who ask:
I am in the home I grew up in
Between the intersection and the train tracks
(Did you know, when I was little and up too late
I heard the whistle of the train
And I thought it was the trumpeting of angels
Come to take me in the night.)

And where am I, Lord?
Where will this be
In history’s books?
Just down the street from a post office
Built during the civil war for shipping shoes
Still open—an essential service
In a time of worry, as it was in the time of war
(There have been sixteen cases in my town
And it has not yet touched me.)

And oh, where am I, my love?
I am with my family
Keeping my hands busy
So my mind stays still
I am in bed, or on the floor,
Or in the living room, or on the porch,
Or putting grooves in the driveway
As I stop to smell the flowers
that have bloomed the same this year
as they have on every other
except this year I have someone to compare them to and
not a blossom measures up to you, my love.

Where am I?
Home
Safe—as safe as one can be
In a familiar place
All of these are true
(But the first answer that comes to my mind
Is always “still miles away from you”)

Trapped.
Engorged in a prison box too small for the swelling of my spiritual rotted flesh.
Given the necrosis of civilizational crumbling had cast it's affect unto me,
I melt in the wading pool of an invisible guard wielding the spear of viral pandemic.
I hold steadfast in my mental capacity.
Only to have the prism of stability rocked by the puncturing of many holes in the hot air balloon that glides through the ice...
I am rocked, shook, and unhinged;
I am the door that sways gently in the breeze to the rocking tides of this astral storm of disease.
All of this chaos in the atoms of my mind's eye...
As I simply lay here.
Trapped.
Engorged in the prison of the mind.
I am my own gatekeeper. A militant simply funded by the fear of the invisible guard.
I blink and sip the coffee, sitting up in the bed.
Shake off the madness, and return to stillness.

If you knew it was the last time you would see me, at least for a while, what would you have done different?
Would you hold me tighter?
Would you kiss me properly on the lips?
Would you have stayed a little longer?
Would you have held my hand for the first time?

I tell you what I did, I said goodbye as if I didn't know it was the last time, 'cause I'm looking forward for the next one.