you have a soul

and you’re supposed to grieve

Is watching the sun rise supposed to be frightening?

Is watching it set supposed to spark a little flare of grief?

Is staring at the stars supposed to impress upon us this feeling of being fundamentally alone?

We are some stars, watching pure space and light-years apart.

Isn’t closing your eyes supposed to bring peace?

Are we supposed to grieve the lost potential of the day before we drift off to sleep?

The colors of our eyes wax and wane like fourteen billion little foreign moons.

What is home supposed to mean?

What is home to me when my eyes are shut tight against the speed of time?

What is home to us when our feet are rooted to one place but the ground is hurtling through space?

Hold home in your hands, make it into a locket like a little diamond and feel it bounce against your chest for a heartbeat.

Is your heartbeat a grounding force or a ticking clock?

Do the wings beating inside your chest lift you up or fly you too close to the sun?

You are a sun, rising and setting, a clock set to the speed of time.

What is home supposed to mean when the sunset, everywhere, every day, sparks a little flare of grief?

Are we supposed to grieve?

Does staring at the stars make anyone else feel fundamentally alone?

You watch the stars blink in and out of focus, green eyes waxing and waning like a little diamond moon.

Hold feeling in your hands, make it into a cross and bear it, feel it bounce against your back, as heavy as your only human soul.

Notes

Wow, fear of death instead of fear of the dark? I’m really shaking things up in my poetry writing over here.

Anyways, I just dumped this out of my brain, wholly unedited. I’m tired and didn’t feel like doing any self-critiquing. What is the message? Your guess is as good as mine.

Another poem written largely using questions. Read Rob Me Blind for more, I kind of liked that one better anyway. I’m very partial to the last line of this poem, though.

I’m sitting at a desk in my college library as I write this, and carved into the wood are the words “you have a soul”. Hence the title.

Also carved are “calc 3 sucks”, “I wanna go home”, “Leave while you still can”, “shuga”, “cooked crack #1”, and “does coke”. There’s also some drawings of assorted anatomical parts, naturally. None of those really sparked any inspiration, though.

Till next time. I’ve been reading a lot of poetry lately (I’m taking a poetry elective, shoutout to mandatory humanities credits) and have been feeling somewhat inspired.

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to read more of my poetry, check out my pieces ‘Lack’ and ‘someone American’.

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