Becoming fearless

Speak my fears to the wind
may they blow past us
you say I attach to this
that I enjoy it
as I generate the storm
caught in between the grit
and your mirrored truth
thrust in the torn-to-bits
whispered chills
knots without solutions
that can be seen
a funeral for the losses
all my thoughts
gather to witness
figures in the mist
where I sacrificed
my Self
on a bed of thorns

Once again
you remain
the rub against the grain
my cherished pain
a rhyme that aches
with the sharpness
of my sweet tooth’s
innermost nerve
raw and exposed
and it’s always you
I long to embrace
I carry you etched
in my face
your voice recorded
in mine

Do you believe
what they say
that everything will be ok
that love always finds a way
I don’t feel it the same
anymore because
I lean into the weight
of all the space
this growing up
has given us
and I hear the echoes
of more questions
than answers

The cracks I fell through
from a life I used to have
fading endlessly into distance
the backdrop of a past
and who will remember
the trembling of my fears
beneath your hands
ecstasy spent
like pennies thrown for wishes
in an ocean
here swimming in the costs
the price of your life

Who will know the essence
when memories have consumed
the presence we define
ourselves to be
not even you
not even me

I am always a rising
sun out of night
navigating unsure
the helm of my boat
pointed to the other shore
mastering the unborn
getting used to knowing nothing
just a little bit more
yet feeling steady
in this learning
it’s in the losing all the pieces
that I find what I’m made of
the suffering releases
like pauses in the rain
the quiet restraint
of a disciplined mind
the crushing grind
will be there ever-present
the weeping joke on the breeze
the kind you laugh at to not cry

I’m a willow on the river
rooted bones in mud
while the mountainside
is slipping with the force
of inevitable change
and I’m accepting
the long slow thud
that comes
it was always meant to end
and there is nothing left
to hold onto

Courage is just another word
for your last resort
and being out of options
is the opening road

I’m just a map
of history
veined on a leaf
tumbling in the wind

One Comment Add yours

  1. Mike says:

    Eloquent and ambrosial with some great language and expression. Nice work

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