Category: Poetry

Out of my Mind With Grief

My head feels lost,
Untethered,
My body weak,
Unstable,
I want to grab normal,
But it slips through my fingers,
And I know,
I’m not there,
I’m in that other place,
Out of the flow,
Not in sync with the rest,
Bobbing along,
In a stream of pain,
Sorrow,
Brokenness,
That can’t be glued back together
With words,
Or thoughts,
Or even prayers,
Because the pieces,
Are not meant to be,
A picture any more,
And that throws my mind,
To another plain,
Don’t bring me back,
I don’t want normal,
I want to be forever outside,
Forever hanging onto,
What was,
What cannot be,
Except within my heart.

Do It Again

Every day we start our way and face,
the grind, grind, grind, grind,
ground up joy, can’t lie, can’t say, it’s okay,
doesn’t matter anyway,
We’ll make it work, put in the time,
doesn’t even have to rhyme.
Look away, pages say, life gone by,
bye, bye, bye, bye,
bought the lie, felt the pain, put our faces to the rain,
and feel it all wash away.
Lay down, take a rest,
put hope,
to the test,
chase it down with love now,
Don’t hide it.
Makes each breath alive and,
breath, breath, breath, breath,
gasp for air, no time to spare,
then say it’s done,
we have won,
another day.

Intimate Solidarity

Hardship and trouble,
Crumble walls built by,
Boredom, disappointment,
Ridiculous expectations,
Self protection,
Grumbling,
Tears,
Complacency.
Laid down like scum,
Layer upon layer,
Thick,
Gummy,
So skin does not touch skin,
With electrifying connection,
but dull and shallow reflex.
All this swept away,
In the storm of tribulation,
Purifying,
Cleansing,
Freeing,
Finding,
That holding a hand,
That holds back,
Heals,
Calms,
Answers the need,
Connects,
Bridges,
Declares that the cement,
Is good,
Unbreakable,
Sustained,
Worthy of deep gratitude.

Say it Again – A Poem

Lies, lies, lies,
Whisper at every side,
Truth, truth, truth,
No where to abide.
Noise, noise, noise,
The melody is dead,
Silent, silent, silent,
No words of hope are said.
Strife, strife, strife,
Fight to live a life,
Rest, rest, rest,
On the edge of a knife.
Close, close, close,
Eyes to present dark,
Open, open, open,
To a view vast and stark,
Search, search, search,
Until all thoughts suspend,
Find, find, find,
The light at tunnel’s end.

Uncertain Certainty- A Poem

We want it all to be crystal clear;
Nothing murky,
Nothing left for doubt to spread its fingers in the cracks.
We want to be understood in our deepest self,
and to understand.
For the shadows and the wondering,
to cease.
But all around,
Our sight fails,
Our love fails,
Our steps slip.
Where is the hand to lift,
the heart to give what we want but
can’t give ourselves?
Where is the path that is straight,
without stones,
Or pits of darkness,
Or the dusty, dryness, of thirsty emptiness?
Oh to be human with such
great need upon our backs,
as we traverse every day,
time pushing us out on stage,
trumpeting ‘live and let live’;
side by side all of us,
wanting heaven on earth,
to find peace, happiness, joy.
but that is not promised.
In the rose garden of beauty,
wafting sweet fragrance,
there are the thorns,
there are the weeds,
there are flowerless plants offering nothing.
Let your expectations,
not be on the map of the journey,
but on the destination;
simultaneously ahead,
and here and now.

Exit Wound – A Poem of Sorrow

Something died.
I felt its life snuffed out just now.
It tore away living flesh with its exit.
I feel the searing pain,
the warm trickle of blood,
from a new wound.
If I screamed into space,
for how horrible it felt,
it would echo through all the galaxies,
and chill the heat of the sun.
A wave of bitterness, comes back to me,
with the outflow of life passing on.
I put my sand bags of faith against it,
and wonder if they will hold.

Note: This is an old poem that I stumbled on and thought it might speak to someone. If it’s you, I’m sorry for this painful time you’re in. Difficult days come. Good days come. Difficult days sometimes come anew. But even this pain is part of your tapestry, your whole self, your story, a story of life. May the good days, outweigh the difficult.

Clare Graith

To Each Their Own

There is a strength not born from adversity,

or by gender,

or by any other means,

except endowment.

It stands and keeps standing,

Without a second thought,

Of how near others are.

The strength is housed,

In many forms,

Not always the book smart,

the eloquent,

the fine featured, or

the able-bodied.

But comes in a frail, spindly package,

as often as a burly, stout one.

This strength is the wind in the sails of others,

And if the hand on the helm is true,

The rudder is sure to chart a course,

For the weaker to head in the right direction.

There is a weakness, not born from coddling,

Or by gender,

Or by any other means,

Except endowment.

It trails and keeps trailing,

with no other thought,

then to stay near the strength.

The weakness is housed,

in many forms.

Not always the feeble-minded,

the soft spoken,

the careful,

the uncoordinated,

but comes in a muscle-bound confident package,

as often as a shaking, unsteady one.

This weakness is a blanket on the shoulders of the strong,

covering and weighing them down, so that they don’t

rise above their humanity and are lost.

The strong and the weak.

to each their own place.

True Love – A Poem

I believe that you will leave,
Because that’s what I expect,
That’s what I think you’ll do,
Because I’m not all I thought I was,
And I haven’t done what I promised I would.
I rush to make amends because,
Soon you’ll leave,
if I don’t give you hope that one day,
I’ll get it.
But then I stop in my tracks,
Where am I going with this?
You’re not going anywhere are you?
You never have and never will,
So I’m putting aside that fear.
I’m changing what I believe,
and resting in your nearness.