A Poem? Not a Poem?

Let’s try this again.
I’ve written, deleted, written more.
Deleted more.
This is my life. Nothing sticks,
no matter what I try.
I’m not finishing things,
not accomplishing anything.
Write. Delete.
No record I was ever here.
Do I really have so little to say?
Or do I simply lack the voice to say it?
I tried to sing along to an old song
when I was driving yesterday.
My throat felt tight and closed.
My voice wobbled, unable
to find and hold the note.
I used to sing all the time:
school chorus,
community theater,
around the house.
Anywhere and everywhere.
Always a song.
And if not a song, a story.
Not any more.
I bury my stories deep.
I silence my songs.
And the silence has stretched so long,
that I’ve forgotten the words to my life.
Has the tune faded too?
I strain to hear it,
to hum it,
but there’s nothing there.
Am I disintegrating?
Have so many pieces of my self
fallen away
that I’m unrecognizable?
Is this why I can’t write?
I feel as though part of me
has been switched off,
and I don’t know how
to turn it on again.
Even as I type,
my throat feels constricted
and sore.
I cannot speak.
Whatever I have to say,
my body holds tight
and won’t release.
I fear that if I ever
find that current,
that energy,
that life force again,
it will shatter me.
What’s left of me.
It will blow me apart.
Would that be a relief?
One last burst of feeling,
followed by…

Maybe if I knew that answer,
I wouldn’t feel
so empty,
so lost,
so tired,
so alone,
so discouraged,
so hollow,
so done.


Will I Ever Learn


wit and wile
ageless style
first seduce
and then beguile
enchantment spun
a dazzling show
with silken chains
tie fast the bow

binding bruising
almost losing
budding trust
so self abusing
fading faith
surrenders power
trades the soul
for happy hour

drink and dance
pursue romance
with pheromones
and sultry glance
lure the willing
close the gap
ensnare another
spring the trap

wake and wonder
same old blunder
frantic pairings
mimicked thunder
echoed noises
drowning pain
a hollow storm
all sweat no rain

parched and dying
lost soul crying
plumb the darkness
test the trying
the pieces torn
gladly greet
forgiving morn