All I Have Is My Words

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Abstract

k of holiday lights but the ones you forgot to plug in Vestiges of light that carry none, dark</p><p id="0636">But these words are my light, a kind of brightness in the foggy landscape of an autumnal meadow gently dripping dew onto my face to wake me up but the problem is, I am awake, just a bit catatonic</p><p id="cc42">Like I’m walking on a trail, between the tall trees but inside my shoes is the quicksand, and I’m sinking into myself until I am gone and only my shoes remain staring up at those same trees, not wondering where I went</p><p id="300f">My words ignite flames within me even when I am out What some would call a simmer is really a cry for help to allow some of this emotion to leak out of me if only to make this body more bearable to live in</p><p id="bc12">All I have is my words, which isn’t to say I don’t have more My c

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hildren breathe air into my uninflated lungs and heart, but the problem is that I forgot how to do that for myself So there I lay, crumpled in the corner, deflated and wordless</p><p id="d0f4">© <a href="undefined">Jonathan Greene</a> 2020</p><p id="4543">If you liked this, you might like this as well:</p><div id="d98a" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/bits-and-pieces-of-me-c6be655bdfd9"> <div> <div> <h2>Bits and Pieces of Me</h2> <div><h3>A Poem</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*2Er9DkQBorGgPJyM)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

A Poem

I don’t have a lot to offer right now in the midst of this bubonic trainwreck A pulsating plague that always existed bubbling to the top of a vat of ignorance

I just don’t have a lot in me of a personal nature as if two young kids came and plucked me clean of all of my berries, and left thorns A rose without a name, wilting

All I have is my words right now, strung together like a pack of holiday lights but the ones you forgot to plug in Vestiges of light that carry none, dark

But these words are my light, a kind of brightness in the foggy landscape of an autumnal meadow gently dripping dew onto my face to wake me up but the problem is, I am awake, just a bit catatonic

Like I’m walking on a trail, between the tall trees but inside my shoes is the quicksand, and I’m sinking into myself until I am gone and only my shoes remain staring up at those same trees, not wondering where I went

My words ignite flames within me even when I am out What some would call a simmer is really a cry for help to allow some of this emotion to leak out of me if only to make this body more bearable to live in

All I have is my words, which isn’t to say I don’t have more My children breathe air into my uninflated lungs and heart, but the problem is that I forgot how to do that for myself So there I lay, crumpled in the corner, deflated and wordless

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