there
is currently no poetry in my world
empty pages beckons to me to speak
there
is no time for me within my day
to
stop, to breathe, to dream, to exhale
a
lone soul, I came into this place
where
beauty is vast and breathtaking
but
life and its demands have nailed me
to
the cross like some martyr to commerce
I
have entered this land of strangers
where
not an ounce of trust exists
and
am not in a place
where
I can protect myself
hyper
aware, constantly in defense
of
things that should not be taking up my time
no
place to let down the upheld guard
no
space to exhale my own need
last
night I dreamt that my poet tattoo
simply
rubbed off the surface of my skin
that
is wasn’t truly etched into me
as
the definition of who I know I am
the
message is strong as I wake today
and
am slammed back to reality’s bite
so
in defiance I sit typing these words
when
I know I ‘should’ be doing something else
I
cannot let this environment
take
over the content of my soul
I
have to quiet the external screams
so
that my voice
has
room to be heard
she
is quiet and timid until sure of herself
and
I cultivate her growth
but
if I let this world take the core of me
then
she will die as well~
Oooo...sometimes life is a giant pain in the ass. But when we can at least write of that pain, we share it...we punch it down and get some peace of mind.
ReplyDeleteSuch an intense feeling of claustrophobia. I can relate to the idea; it is a continuous struggle to keep that poet part within us alive and kicking because without it, a major part of our identity is lost.
ReplyDeleteBrilliantly penned. Enjoyed reading this.