I know it's been said before and again
these thoughts spin relentless, my wheels won't
catch purchase. I'm stuck in rut, I'm
grinding it deeper. These are my thoughts as
sleep avoids me. Resisting the urge to run
screaming or drinking the last of the gin.
The mud globs I sling as I rev up my engine
in cycles as wheels spin in circles. It sprays
everywhere, everyone in my pathway.
I'm sure they don't know I don't mean any
harm when I sting their ears and their
eyes with my barbs dipped in poison.
My pain and my fear of a life in the future
in darkness, unknown, outside of a plan. I
suffer inside force a smile to my face so
someone won't see all the junk inside me.
Your enviable life of perfection is galling.
Boys growing strong with no struggle at all.
Embarrassment floods my face with blood
leaving a stomach bloodless and sick with
lost hope of a friend in this struggle. Life is
much harder when done with secrets, alone
and lying and hiding inside. Open the sealed
door of my pride and spill fear to the outside.
Fear spoken aloud is a chance worth the
risking. This cycle and circle of living, a
mystery shared by the forgivable. We
all at incremental points on the journey. I
trust compassion is out there for me. Here
is my cheek, you can slap it as well.
these thoughts spin relentless, my wheels won't
catch purchase. I'm stuck in rut, I'm
grinding it deeper. These are my thoughts as
sleep avoids me. Resisting the urge to run
screaming or drinking the last of the gin.
The mud globs I sling as I rev up my engine
in cycles as wheels spin in circles. It sprays
everywhere, everyone in my pathway.
I'm sure they don't know I don't mean any
harm when I sting their ears and their
eyes with my barbs dipped in poison.
My pain and my fear of a life in the future
in darkness, unknown, outside of a plan. I
suffer inside force a smile to my face so
someone won't see all the junk inside me.
Your enviable life of perfection is galling.
Boys growing strong with no struggle at all.
Embarrassment floods my face with blood
leaving a stomach bloodless and sick with
lost hope of a friend in this struggle. Life is
much harder when done with secrets, alone
and lying and hiding inside. Open the sealed
door of my pride and spill fear to the outside.
Fear spoken aloud is a chance worth the
risking. This cycle and circle of living, a
mystery shared by the forgivable. We
all at incremental points on the journey. I
trust compassion is out there for me. Here
is my cheek, you can slap it as well.
This really spoke volumes to me today. I've been that negative person and also (since misery loves company) I've been around those people too. So self destructive. Thanks for sharing. It's certainly given me some food for thought
ReplyDeleteWow. This is profound poetry. I appreciate your vulnerability. No slapping from me.
ReplyDelete"Fear spoken aloud is a chance worth the
risking."
So wide open and UNhappy. But I appreciate your honesty...
ReplyDelete"Fear spoken aloud is a chance worth the risking." - Yes, it is...love the honesty and raw intensity in your words, and it is worth it, and there are those of us who are indeed listening.
ReplyDeleteWell done! I've found myself in that same rut more than once.
ReplyDeleteI always wonder if other lives have the perfection they seem to. I understand the rut though.
ReplyDeleteLife is
ReplyDeletemuch harder when done with secrets, alone
and lying and hiding inside.
So true! It's hard to live openly as many feel free to offer up judgement. But I've found it's harder to live secretly. So I've offered up my life, living truthfully in hope that others will find encouragement in my brokenness. I've also learned the hard way that no one's life is perfect. Often the person whose life I've envied turns out to have struggles I've no wish to have.
*hugs*
oh friend, you have my prayers... and my compassion. i understand those sleepless nights, and beg God to send you rest. love to you.
ReplyDeleteThis whole poem was just fabulous. I think you should write more poetry-you do a very nice job. Very real and honest. I loved it-this line really jumped out at me-
ReplyDeleteFear spoken aloud is a chance worth the risking.
Wow, this is wonderful. "Fear spoken aloud is a chance worth the
ReplyDeleterisking." Indeed worth it.
I know that rut, the sleepless nights and the wheels spinning, the need for a good slap. Glad my Savior touches me gentle instead.
ReplyDeleteJingle appreciates your support to our poetry potluck.
ReplyDeleteOur week 41 Theme is: Saints, Monks, and Meditations,
Yet, old poems or poems unrelated to our theme are welcome… ;)
Always, your poetry is sunshine to us!
Looking forward to seeing U on Sunday, 8pm or later.
Stay Blessed,
Love and hugs.
xoxox
amazing poetry, http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com/
'friend in this struggle' I think I can relate to this. It's really hard to
ReplyDeletefind other parents who can relate to me. Even other parents of autistic kids.
I find myself thinking, "But yours are completely toilet trained, or they can
talk, or you only have one..." Things like that. I don't know that I'm jealous of parents of 'normal' kids, but I do find myself going through periods of mourning that mine aren't.
Oh Betsy. I know we have similar struggles from opposite ends. My son is so high functioning, no one understands there is a real issue with autism spectrum. Most just thinks he's weird. Sometimes I wish he was more severe so they'd "get it." I work hard to be grateful and hopeful for his future.
ReplyDeleteYour enviable life of perfection is galling.Boys growing strong with no
ReplyDeletestruggle at all
I got the weirdest feeling when I read these lines.
Do you have 'negative
people' claiming to be your friends? Ones that have perfect lives and perfect
children? I hope they are kind to you. Otherwise, I wouldn't be calling them
friends! :( And I seriously doubt that their lives are perfect. ha.
This poem (?) wasn't written about me. It was really written about someone else, but I feel similar feelings. I know when someone writes the automatic response is that it is from a first person point of view. This is actually written about someone else. Sorry if I misrepresented.
ReplyDeletefound it ...;)
ReplyDelete:
ReplyDeleteblogger ate my comment. OK, let me try that again...lol...
ReplyDelete:( hate when that happens.
ReplyDelete