I just woke up
Years lost to ether
I am jarred alert
Through numb and fever
By the sound of shattering
An echo by the time I hear:
A touch familiar, a touch foreign,
Unseen, but certainly near
Intact no more, I follow drafts
I wander room to room
Amid broken glass interred in dust
But I know this break is new
And the lights are blown
Debris is scattered
Photographs under foot
Retrace the shatter
In red tones streaming
From paneless moors
Blood on the moon
Castoff on the floor
Congealed in horror
Seized in fear
Don’t slide back to sleep:

Was there a murder here?

The last year
Required more than I had
Not in new demands
But old ones staggered
Closer together

I tried

I threw everything combustible
Into the furnace fuming
Then everything that was left
To keep the engine burning
But as we sputtered

Into the station

The engine died

Still I tried

Desperately working two rails
Pushing forward through pain
Isolated by indifference
Trying to remain
An adoring helper

As I promised to be
Forever
And in my fervor
To keep it together
The wheels fell off

And I stood in shock
In the silence of a train wreck
Beyond comprehension
In slow-motion reflection
And I saw the machine

Honestly
And for the first time.

I saw the apathy and resentment
Inside the casing
Of the words I believed
Poisoned pills- embracing
The thing that deceived me

Because I agreed I was too much
And too little
To deserve love
I worked and whittled
Myself to sharpened bones

And apologized
For what was no sin
And groveled
For permission
To be myself

I can’t unsee the wreckage.

I wandered out numb
To a gentler place
Kindness framed
Familiar new faces
I sat in peace

Even joy.

I wasn’t working, fighting,
In the blood and the sweat
Or paying assigned penance
Before the accusations were read-
I was just a woman.

I was real and seen
I could sing and play
And I was limited too,
And that was okay
I was a real woman.

It was the best I’ve ever felt.

Now I’m entering the marathon
Set ahead of me
One I must run
By necessity
And I must.

My feet pick up the pace
The repetitive drumming
But I carry with me all the
Hopscotch and humming

In the burnt-out hollowed
Engine room of my soul.

I talk too much:

I always have, I think.
Five pounds at birth
Already too much
For whatever that’s worth.

I care too much:

About stuff I ought to let go
For as long as I can remember
But it’s not about control;
It requires constant surrender.

I smoke too much:

Because a single is excess
And mine come by battalions
Stamping at my lungs
Like untamed stallions.

I cry too much:

Part of caring and surrender
And just being plain dumb.
The vulnerability of openness
Won’t allow me to numb.

I think too much:

But I’ve spent my life
Mostly alone
In every way that matters
Especially at home.

Lately,

I’m unable to help
With the everyday chores
Because there’s nowhere for me
To take hold anymore
No corner to grab,
To inhabit, or claim.
I’m adrift and undone.
I will never be the same

For better or worse.