top of page

This is it

There’s no magic pacing on the back porch,

no magic in those half-smoked cigarettes sitting outside,

no magic screaming to the sky and hearing nothing in return —

still trying to set myself free in the middle of the night.


Where’s god in these times when I beg him

to block the sunlight from my eyes on the way back home?

Where’s god when I bargain with him for peace,

asking all the right questions but getting no sign?

Where’s god when I come home alone each night

to the same, unwavering feeling of sadness

that rushes over everything else —

sometimes I wonder if he’s seen this all before.


And sometimes I wonder if it will always be this way —

this splitting indecision on the first of June.

This stone cold feeling in my spine and in my bones.

This unseen self that says I know I must hurt.


Can anyone hear me, anyway?

 
 
 

Recent Posts

See All
The Break Room

This is the final breaking of a bone before it can heal, the long-awaited anticipation of how badly it will hurt, my last whispered prayer before it gets worse, my loudest scream that you will never h

 
 
 
What I Know

I know everything about you that everyone else doesn’t — How you don’t like the fat on your steak, wispy singing in pop songs, your deep urge to people please and feel like you belong. I know about yo

 
 
 
Hungry

My hungry body is nothing but a nuisance these days — a low, slow, growling reminder that I am functioning on empty and need to be fed — and so I shove a handful of blueberries or buttered bread to th

 
 
 

Comments

bottom of page