This rift.

Will things shift when this is over?
Or will I be the same?
Will I carry this forever?
Will it make me miss my aim.
Will I change winged this is over?
Will my soul take a shift?
Will I be capable of healing,
This gaping hole, this rift.

For once.

Do not know.
Do not know.
Care too much.
Feel every blow.

Care too much.
If that’s a thing.
If that’s a thing.
Is that a thing?

Do not know.
Hope for more.
As my soul,
Is on the floor.

What can hope bring?
What can hope bring?
Clinging to hope.
As if it’s a thing.

Needing a difference.
Tomorrow, today.
Need this to change.
For once, do not stay.

Not yet.

Desperate for this time to end,
For something in this line to bend.
Holding the line is getting harder,
As my energy is depleted,
I was once stronger,
But am not yet defeated.

Crown of blame.

When you sense the dropping empathy,
And the criticism seeping in.
That fact you are not healing,
Is now perceived as sin.
Do I have to share the detail,
To avoid your shame.
When doing the best you can,
Becomes your crown of blame.

No games.

Should I hold my breath,
‘Til the tale is told?
This ongoing not knowing,
Is getting old.
Can I sleep for days?
Take a step away?
There are no games,
I wish to play.

Not allow.

I walk a path,
One foot before t’other.
I don’t know the future,
This is something other.
This was not envisaged,
This was not planned,
And where it goes,
Is not in my hand,
But I’ll walk this path,
One foot before t’other,
And not allow it,
To permanently smother.

To heal.

Suddenly the light wind,
That had taken to my sails,
Has become as ill as I,
And my brief gusto is off the rails.
I miss it.  I feel I mourn it.
I am tired of this view.
I want to be blessed,
With the chance to heal, renew.

Bountiful seed.

Though this is not,
The intended journey,
It is not,
Without worth.
It is still a path,
Walked.
A bountiful seed,
I did birth.

For you.

For you,
My inspiration.
For you,
My drive.
I would not,
Not without you.
You.
My beating heart before me.
For you.

Given in.

One more stone. I felt it.
Then another, making that two.
If I add them to yesterday’s,
I lose count.  Who knew?
My maths has given up,
1 year and 5 weeks in.
My heart and soul are beaten.
My body has given in.

Those flaws

The need for escapism,
So real and such temptation.
A needed step away from reality,
And bruised lamentation.
The curtain drops,
The harsh lights flare,
Reality cold,
Shivering, bare.
No wonder,
That it has its draws,
The stage lights,
Hiding all those flaws.

Once again cold.

I listened, and I tried.
I offered myself hope.
Being hit again,
Drops me down the rope.
That thing I tried to grasp,
To cherish and hold,
Has dropped and dropped me,
My soul, once again cold.

Hold the west.

It keeps on coming.
Any pause, so brief.
It will not be long,
Until the next wave of grief.
One more trigger,
One more test,
One more thing to fear,
As you hold the West.

To myself.

Judgement is not always,
A thing you can ignore.
Sometimes people have power,
To a level you can’t ignore.
I choose to be honest.
Whatever that may do.
I will fight for her,
And to myself be true.

Spent.

Hope can be the kindest gift,
But the cruelest torment.
It’s can provide the energy,
Or warn you that you’re spent.

Process.

Tired that the journey,
Seems to have no end.
No pause, or respite,
It no longer a new friend.
Tired that the fight,
Feels incessant.  No relief.
Missing what once was,
But too tired to process grief.

Of value.

Looking for something in this,
That’s more than just survival.
Is it a lesson,
End or arrival.
Desperate for value from this,
That what I’ve lost hasn’t gone to waste.
I feel I’ve lost so much of value,
That I will never get back or replace.

The floor.

Desperately hoping,
But have been in that place before.
Desperately wishing, I
To rise up from the floor.
Knowing it’s a journey,
But you’re tired of the fight.
Wanting to lose the weight,
And begin to enjoy the day.

Close a door.

When you gained hope,
However briefly,
But then it’s whipped away.
You wanted it,
So badly.
You wanted it to stay.
You sink a little lower,
Than you were before.
You want silence,
To mourn it.
You want to close a door.

I know.

When it rains, pours,
And rains again.
When you’re an episode,
Of ‘Never the Twain’.
When life is jus,
That twitch too hard,
But you’re not in a position,
To throw in the card,
I know.
I know.

A time.

A break.
A pause.
A moment.
One deep drink.
A minute.
A glimpse.
Silence.
A time to think.

The feat.

Depleted, defeated,
So close to done.
Life in a heel,
Suddenly spun.
Depleted, defeated,
Broken, incomplete.
Pulling it back,
Will be quite the feat.

Hold it.

I am envious of others,
If the peace that they enjoy.
I am envious of who I was,
When life could be a toy.
I am impatient for a return,
To a better day.
If it returns, I want to hold it.
How do I make it stay?

Start to fly.

Last one more.  

One more again.  

Pray it doesn’t turn to ten.  

One more deep breath.  

One more sigh.  

Hope the days will start to fly.  

No rest.

When you feel it will never end,
And this how your life you’ll spend.
You’re trying, trying, doing your best,
But there’s no let up.  There’s no rest.

Back to land.

I can feel the earth moving.
I feel tremors beneath my feet.
I don’t know what is coming,
But it does not smell so sweet.
I had hoped things were rising,
Floating back to land.
It no longer feels like that,
And I don’t know where I stand.

Signs to see.

It strikes me that I sat there once,
At the start of what I now know,
And here I am again,
Almost toe to toe.
Brought to tears, then somewhat lifted.
Wishing to be carried,
Wanting to reach a place,
Where I am not this harried.
I see a pattern to read,
Signs to see,
I just need time,
To return to me.

Worrying for cloud.

I wanted progress,
I wanted release,
But I’m stuck here,
Stifled by this fleece.
I wanted to return,
To myself, to before,
Or forward to something better,
Just steadier on the floor.
I want to smile at rainbows,
Without worrying for cloud.
I want all the things,
I can’t say out loud.

A waste?

When through all the weeks of trying,
It happens just the same,
Do you regret the effort,
Is it a waste, a shame?
Do you lapse in the future?
None of that’s for me.
Hoping, and then letting it go,
But not willing to let it be.

Polishing

Wishing turns to praying,
When you just don’t see how,
You can this one more day,
Dangling from a bough.
When one foot before the other,
Has barely got you this far,
And where you want to be,
Is polishing her star.