For my fighters

-
Hey little fighter,
I know you're drowning in an ocean of tears,
And you're struggling to learn how to swim.
I know your life is a mess of tangled Christmas lights,
When you get one colored bulb to light up another goes out.
I know you're wrestling with your exhaustion,
And you keep getting pinned.

And it's okay.

Maybe quit trying to swim, float on your back awhile.
Gaze up at the strikingly blue sky, that wavers like a mirror reflecting the deep blue sea.
Maybe quit trying to untangle the lights and watch them flicker in a beautiful mass of uncertainty.
Maybe quit wrestling with your exhaustion and lay down with it instead,
Let it trail it's fingers through your hair and rock you to sleep,
And when you awake it'll be gone from your bed like a one night lover.

Hey little fighter,
I know you're trying.
I know it's hard.
And it's okay, to take a break.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Astronomer

-
Image
She was a galaxy, Lit from the inside with stars. He loved the night sky, So he observed her from afar. But he was was only an astronomer,  And she was the endless night, So he sat with his telescope and waited until the time was right. He traced her constellations, He drew her crescent smile, But the astronomer never realized that even a galaxy can be fragile. She was constant, And so was he, The astronomer and the galaxy. So he found it surprising when he stepped out in the night, That the endless sky was devoid of any light. The astronomer fell to his knees and wept,  Her name fell from his lips in a desperate plea. He searched the grass for stardust, He looked for a flicker of her in the sky. Surrounded by darkness he realized, stars shine the brightest before they die.
Read more

"How are you?"

-
Image
"How are you?" they ask. They always ask that. It's become a standard greeting, a standard question. It's lost its significance. No one really stops to think about what they're really asking. How are you? I usually give a standard response to the standard question. My lips shape the word, or my fingers type the four letter word. Okay. Because what else am I supposed to say? They don't really care how I am. They're just starting conversation. It's an unwritten rule that you must lie. You grit your teeth, hold back the tears, and give your standardized response.  I'm okay. I'm fine. I'm alright. These are the responses that are expected if you can't give an honest "I'm doing swell how about yourself?"  Because you can't let them know that you're falling apart. You can't let them know that your heart hurts, that your lungs ache, or that sometimes you just wish that you could disappear. Vanish. Poof. I can't le...
Read more