Bits I Recognize
There are things I’m not ready to speak about
And I could say what, but I would not be believed
Trying to make it real for them has taken so much of me
The bits are all I recognize – the occasional scream…
A significant weakening,
But that’s what being open means
Reintroduce the mysteries; there is a moon and sky
There is a pull that happens here and I’m learning not to fight…
Their normal air against my skin is painful enough
Is it truly a fault I have not fallen for love?
You want to tell me what I am not supposed to need
And the way toward others I have yet to seek
But your say will never make it so
To feel again, remember life or clear my sickly clouded eyes
A telling I don’t follow.
Perhaps there was a time I knew
What it meant to be fine
Yet still voiceless and without choice,
It’s easier to die
The picture here is very old, one of the first paintings that ended up as a digital piece, inverted and with a color variation. The poem is newer, but already months old really. The amount of time I take to edit things keeps it that way, but it keeps me from sharing anything I’ll regret showing later on and I need that, especially now.