Breathing In.

Choking on despair,
I sob for my own fate.
You assume my pain is from you,
But please don’t assume anything.
I am here, but I don’t belong here.

I had my perfect story
For a short time
A short while ago.
Yet I am here,
And home is not.

I smell the daffodils
As they peek open their first leaves
Ready to try again this spring.
I am not ready to try again.
I am empty of my own suchness
And emptied by my own thoughts.
I believed myself down this path
And so here I am.

I am the red queen,
Devoid of self-fulfillment,
Nestled so tightly in the knitting of my own dark cloak
I cannot gasp for air
And I sweat in the heat of my own breath.

My lungs are wet with heavy seeds
From which grow weeds of sorrow,
Vines of negativity,
Strangling the bloom of compassion,
The most beautiful blossom of all.

I know nothing except that I do not live here.
My life is being lived, but by whom?
I am not living here,
I have a home in somewhere that is lost
But I don’t live here.

I have no answer because there is no answer.
I have no question because no question
Can ask what I ask in my heart every moment.
I have no strength except to put down my fists
And stop fighting my reflection.
I have no courage except to wake up from this feverish dream.
I have no choice but to become a lotus
Growing from the mud that was me.



clr