Posts Tagged ‘healing’

“I may not be a whole person, but that isn’t going to prevent me from trying to be a good one.”- Original

You may be broken. That’s fine. Use that as momentum. Be the best that you can be.

Moving on is a funny thing.

At times it seems impossible,

but then you come to a place

where you can look back

and laugh. And you may not

be happy, but

you’re getting there.

And another realization


that it’s time to move forward

and stop looking back.

My own body has betrayed me,

my cheeks swell like the eyes of fish,

my veins and arteries have reverted

to childish indecisiveness.

I want to run and I want to sleep.

But I am ill.

Have the prescribed dosages

in their plastic orange bottles

done anything for me?

I feel the gashes in the back of my mouth,

I taste blood.

When the needle went into my arm

they were laying me down

and I talked about how I wanted to write,

when I awoke I was in the car with my father

and there was gauze muffling the words I tried to form.

The taste of blood was stronger then.

True, it was a small thing,

removing four pearls

whose heads had just begun to grow

out of the pink sheath of my gums.

Gone in half an hour,

but exhausted for three days.

This aftermath plays with my mind.

Who knows where I’ll be, or what

I’ll be thinking,

when these four cuts heal.

If you could lift these wounds,

peel them off like children’s stickers;

if you could house my faint heart

drumming under your arms,

my face pressed against the maternal warmth

of your chest.

if you could see me;

infantile, sobbing over scarlet cuts and scrapes,

the opening of my innocent skin– this Earth’s first incision.

My darling, my friend,

of whom I know so much and still

so little,

would you be there?

Would the hole in your chest contract,

and your starry-eyed glitter of dreams

recede into your pupils

so you could wholly see the crimson blood of reality?

My darling, my friend,

would you extract yourself

from your fragrant life of new suitors

just so you could cup the softness of my temples

and cool the agitated flare that beat, beat, beat

such a racket against my skull?

If you could take an excursion

from the humdrum sidewalks

and lost-luster neon so we could venture forth

into the dark and endless green, the contained infinity of the natural,

would you?

My dear dear friend, would you?