I write these words
To bury the days before
If it’s a real bad one
I have a tomb for those
First I suffocate them
Separate the parts
Encase ‘em in concrete
N’ line the box with lead
So they never can bloom
One bad day I can weed
A field may overcome me
Fill all my days in limbo
That first circle of hell
See, I can’t kill anything alive
A day past is already dead
I can snuff those out
Keep my garden clean
To see across the fields
For far and for long
Even then I’ll be grazed
Hit from the side unannounced
From above or below
Maybe from a kiss
Or from deep within
My words help heal then
To burn closed the wound
The cut cross the heart
Compassion hurts
It requires you be open
Eyes clear and seeing
But the sights I see
They quickly blind me
Tears of rage
And tears of fear
Of grief and suffering
Of loss and longing
Of desperation
Tears of last resorts
I can’t see through them
I can’t sit meditating
With a thousand voices
All crying out in pain
Hunched over my back
It’s too much to carry
My heart’s heavy enough
I can’t be adding on
I’m trying to get free
Just as everyone you see
But raised not to waste
Every bone picked dry
Every plate licked clean
I don’t easily let go
Even what others tossed
Their trashed bad days
I go salvaging still
And I need to stop
I need to focus in
Maybe burn my possessions
With it some memories too
It’s too cluttered in there
Too claustrophobic
My apartments full
My mind packed tight
My life made busy
And bothered
But nothing is moving
It’s all filled up tight
Who’d spend time there
It’s hard for me
Nobody else wants that
Surely not
So I start with words
Slowly excavating
Emotional peaks
Mountains of sorrow
But carefully
There’s rare earth here
There’s gems and jewels
Veins and pockets
Delicate networks
Of sweet brief happiness
Of our natures beauty
I can’t collapse them
Be reckless
I must work slowly
Sifting scoop by scoop
Setting aside lost good days
Ones long forgotten
Covered by spillage
Of warped memory
Of traumatic events
They eclipse far and wide
Cast long shadows
So I write at night too
When all is black
The whole world invisible
Not worth wondering on
When the world is small
The light can surround me
Be all there is
Then I can narrow in
Clear it all away
All that’s not needed
I can write these words
For my future self
The one waking
To a Sunday in rain
They can come visit
And know what lies before
It’s cleaned
Mind, body and soul
Hands too even
You can go outside
See and look around
Don’t get wet
Feel the rain instead
Wear that yellow raincoat
Bright against dreariness
Let them write that day
Let them be foolish
With great enthusiasm
Without wit or worry
Without fear of what follows
You’ll be there then
To write the days away
As beautiful it can be
-2024, January 28th, Sunday, Morning Time