Tag Archives: safe

Anger

2 Mar

Anger

I told you that I needed to

but could not cry,

and so the sadness

just settled there,

like murk in the deep waters.

 

And you, you just drew me

in a magic circle against the world,

an untouchable white line

of your arms around me.

The oddly comforting weight

bearing down on my shoulder blades

while you hold me to your chest.

And for a while, the world is blocked out;

can’t get past you to harm me.

And I am safe.

 

I don’t know if it’s the anger or the upset

that’s making me so touchy,

jumping at every noise

because my sensitivity’s been turned to high.

I can feel the pulse in your neck on my cheek,

and for a while, my muscle twitches

try to sync to that evenness,

the lub dub of your heart underneath.

 

The only beating I can handle,

here in my overly caffeinated jitteriness.

 

At least it stirs my consciousness enough

that the murk is disturbed, too, wells up

in the deep and churns the water so that

no particulate in particular is noticeable,

and once more emotionally homogeneously obliviated,

I can get going on my day.

Fetal Position

8 Dec

Fetal Position

There is a safety to curling up,

pulling into a ball so that you resemble

a rock, the immoveable things of the earth.

 

They call it the fetal position.

But is it really so vulnerable,

when you are curled into yourself

and tucked away, safe inside a mother

whose very body protects you from the world?

You are untouchable then, in a way.

With a life between you and everything else.

 

There’s a safety there,

knowing that somebody else

has wrapped you as completely as ever

a human can be, all curled up into

the shape of a rock, fetal position.

A Poem to Monte Cristo

3 Nov

monte cristo

A Poem to Monte Cristo

But perhaps I do not wish to forget.
Perhaps the memory of those scars on my mind
are what make you, in the moment, now, so much sweeter.
Perhaps I wish to remember –
yes, even all the pain,
the fear,
the disgrace that my most inner part of me
felt at their touches
their glances
their words.
Perhaps I wish to remember because with you,
I never feel dirty.
Even as you have me in a way they never will at all.
Though perhaps I may wish that those were never my memories at all,
I would be a fool to wish those cornerstones
of which I have made beauty from ugly
to be plucked from this girl I have constructed,
this woman I have made of myself
despite the ragged claw marks on my life
that would have had me not grow into anything at all.
No, I do not want the flashbacks
the repeated nightmares
the panic that leaves me circling, wondering where I lost my breath
but I want the way you breathe your belief back into me,
in who I am.
No, I do not want the constant brood
of stomach-churning replays,
but I want to remember that yes, I once went through that,
because with you,
I don’t go through that anymore.
Because with you,
even though I remember,
sometimes – most times –
it still feels like I never went through it at all.
And that, my love, I would never wish to forget.