I’m not going to start this piece with a typical explanation as to why I wrote it. I won’t start off with the phrase “I wrote this poem because…” and I won’t try to justify it in any other way. To be honest it was just me being overwhelmed. In the midst of an existential crisis I caught myself in a rut thinking about feelings and the fact I have to keep giving, what’s it worth? It took a bit of time, but there’s still something out there worth fighting for, regardless of the debt and the collection of memories, pain and love that we’ll leave this Earth with.
The habits of life are at
odds with me, built on nothing
but the cost of feeling.
All my tears shed,
accumulating like
individual drops for a
flood;
I’m left with a debt.
Each penny paid
Back, every weight
lifted
is one I lift alone,
God and words.
hand-on-heart
Without knowledge and
an idea, I can
start to make things suddenly
significant
but everything then matters, all too much
Uncertainty builds
on skin, bones, hair,
until an entity is
formed
of dust.
Laughter, the
corners of my mouth creased up in
smiles, exists as the same. The
pitter-patter of
emotions
becomes hollow,
without habit.
We need the build-up of love and pain.
