Category: Poetry

Stand Still. Be Quiet. – A Poem

Sometimes all the pieces,
Escape me,
Like the ends of kite strings,
Slipping through fingers.
Truths that want to be free,
Want to leave me,
Without the cloud of cover,
Nothing to hide within.
Grasping after,
The drifting vapor of illusion,
Of frozen thoughts,
Melting in the warmth of weary time.
Don’t expose me,
To this fluid chaos,
I will plunge once more into the
Safety of the ice,
The solid security of,
Everything still, quiet,
Breath held.
Me held,
Together.

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