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PL McGroarty Feb 2018
Gather it up from the bottom of your belly,
use your calloused hands.

They’ve seen a lot,
and they can reach deep down into the thick of it.

Soil your fingernails,
like a cat kicking up its heels in the litter box,
fling it all to the wayside without remorse.

Exhale that grimey charcoal soot.
Purge it out, and let it ******* go.
It’s been building for some time now,
And you know it weighs you down like rocks.

When you go to speak--
and it stutters from your mouth,
like there’s a concrete glacier in your chest,
and nothing makes any ******* sense.

That ugly ***** pain again, and all that ******* shame--
Simply for feeling anything at all…?

Layer upon layer, and another one again,
like a ***** sheet that covers the light.
It’s the dust on the bulb--(and it’s) clouding your vision.

Wipe it clean.
This time, you might need bleach.

Yes, there was that deep inner knowing,
and no matter how many times it said ‘No more’
literally pleading with your soul,
screaming ‘No ******* more’
you just ignored it, and plunged deeper down that hole.

Graceful as a swan would,
You left no scraps behind.
Not one solid tether to reground,
You forget to consider the potential aftermath,
And just spit freely into the face of the ******* wind.

None of it mattered, because you smiled.
And It was beautiful,
as you told yourself, this is bigger than me.

Suddenly, with your muscles, bones and blood fused together,
all one in some corporal kinetic wave...
You melted into putty.
And it felt so good, for a few months.

...what’s time anyway?

But you know what else?
You were malleable,
And you let yourself bend, bob and weave to someone else’s will…

Here and now though… there’s space;
And now you know where to find the line.
So recognize the concert of compromise…

Because your flesh is not clay in another’s palm.

Your soul is not the tar and texture.
So please don't let that truck pave it down into asphalt.
It might look smooth from the outside,
But it’s so hard and beneath, it’s just dirt.
There’s no truth there.

None of it is as precious as the soil you were born with.

My love, stay true, and let those shiney magnetic things go by,
they were never meant for you.

Just exhale, and let them go,
there’s nothing left here to cling to.

Believe it.
Something far better is coming.
Marie Jan 2022
.      when she reached
       her fingers brushed blue
       she went to reground but
       her feet had forgotten how

— The End —