poem

Split

I have a hole in my heart that has a hole in itself

Buck shot straight through the chest

A broken heart heals; this is worse 

I keep pouring stuff in and pouring stuff in

But can’t find any relief

Everything leaks out

All that’s left is a piercing grief

I was once torn between two paths

Now I’m clean torn in half

Part of me staggers down a road 

I’ll have to learn to accept

While the other half wanders like a ghost

In the indigo shadows of a dark wood

Getting tangled in a life I won’t know

I hope to be whole again

But grief blurs the vision

Here I am, walking just fine on 

My own two feet, my own two legs

Pain doesn’t come from a phantom limb

It’s always been real

The ache is all mine

A certain kind of dreadful space

Opens up across time

That only grief can fill

As a proxy for what was lost

I had hoped that the ghost 

Would carry away the thing that hurts

But the ghost must carry its own

The road is long and hot

And the sultry sun beats down 

A blinding glare that stings the eyes 

Asphalt turning to dust

One day I’ll look up from the ground

And find my parched, sunburnt self

Stalled by a stream in a brambled wood 

This is my dream  

This is my life 

It just needs time 

7/17/22