Numb but Unafraid

I have a story
to tell but no urgency
propels me
towards its completion

and so it will remain
half-whispered, half-exclaimed
flowing yet contained

a dynamic equilibrium
changing all the same.

It does not matter
in a world bursting
at the seams with the imminent
the breaking

do not have time
do not have ears
but the broken

have no fears, they are not
even afraid of waiting,

not anymore.


Peaceful afterthoughts

It seems I’ve reached the point
where instead of moving towards
what are promised to be

the most beautiful years of my life

I am moving through them, past them
onward and away
while still feeling myself to be waiting.

My efforts are disjointed,
a futile writhing

against that which does not even need

to push back
because it has already won.
Yet really

the most beautiful moments of my life

are the ones waiting.
They wait for me to notice them
in the chords of a song, in peaceful afterthoughts,

in windy nights by the lake, city humming
with life in the distance, boats rocking, sails writhing

against thin air.



They said,
“You have potential
(every day
you do not achieve what
I wish for you
you lose a little more
of what justifies
your existence)
“Don’t you see? Potential

(now you know how it is
to have everything to lose
while still being nothing),

motion, blurring
(your worth a sail
and I the wind, I decide
in what direction
you will fill,
take flight, catch
the breath of the universe,
and in what direction
you will crumple), potential,
in the eye
of the beholder

(your value is a glorious hypothetical;
it is there but only I can see it.
It is mine).”