Poetry
Dedicated to: Polly

I can leave all my cares
and troublesome fears.
When I get lost in
creating poetry.
My poetry is the heart
of me.
Here I'm the happiest that
I can be.
It takes away the darkness
residing in my soul.
The untouchable part of me.

Even from the beginning I
knew I had no power over you.
And in my poems I find release
and forgiveness.
All that I am I owe to you.
All that I want to be lies
buried deep inside of me.


Fear

Fear spreading through my body like a cancer.
I see blades of grass twitching as though by
an invisible hand.
Grabbing at me with icy fingers.
Snarling with a fury born of wrath.
Fear was seeping through my body
like water dripping into a bathtub.
The cold reptilian stare of those
merciless eyes.
Containing a stare that was full of personal malice.
I am listening to something that only I can hear.
Something nurturing the fear growing inside of me.


Being Me

Being me means having your future stolen.
The present ripped away.
The past transformed into sorrow and pain.
Being me means needing something to hold onto.
As I face empty craters where once lived memories.
I am constantly reminded of my failures every time
I look into a mirror.
Being me means that there are days when even the
simplest chores are exhausting.
I struggle with loneliness each and every day.
Enormous wellsprings of rage lurk just beneath
my heart.

Being me means never knowing what will push you
over sanity's ledge.
Grief has no timetable nor does rejection.
Mourning succumbs to no man.
Being me means that life has a habit of moving
on just when I'm comfortable.
Much like the ebb and flow of an ocean.
Now when I least expected it my heart is
trying to start mending.
Being me means that now I've reached foreign
shores.
Where the past is past and a future is someday.
And as I continue to grow and to love again.
The imprints of abuse and neglect are not
quite so visible in my heart and eyes.

Cold As Death

I feel cold, cold as death. This place where I live
looks like the backside of the moon. My life is
like trying to climb upward over an ice covered
mountain in the darkness of night.
Memories from the past are lying in wait just
to trap the unwary and uninitiated.
The unearthly silence of the moon is like ghosts
lurking in the deeper shadows.
Is this really real and not just a perception?
Or is this something sent from beyond?