Category: writing

[poem] Saltwater

I was born from sorrow and grief and loss
brought into a world of never-enough
harsh words, loud noises, searing cold
of course there was pleasure there
of course there was
but what impact is a drop of happiness 
– kindness – 
in a world that is drowning in pain?

Would I know happiness if I felt it?
What about kindness if I experienced it?
Love? Joy? 
Would I feel anything but fear when I
inevitably encounter it
out in the world
directed at me or growing in my body?
Would I be able to embrace it
when my entire being is telling me to run away?

My mouth opens and I spit poison.
I want to say “thank you”
I want to say “I’m sorry”
It’s easier to start a fight with you
so so much easier than being vulnerable
so much easier than asking for help
so much easier than admitting I’m hurting.
I have to defend myself against the world
it doesn’t matter that you haven’t hurt me yet
you will, you will, you will…
eventually, everybody will.

I never learned that words were not weapons
I learned that they were created to hurt
I learned how to hurl them at others first
use the words that hurt the most
discover what can do the most damage
if I hurt them badly enough
– maybe –
maybe I’ll (finally) be safe.
But then I learned how to turn those weapons
on myself. (it was the most dangerous lesson.)

I was born from sorrow and grief and loss
Into a world where words were weapons
I never learned how to be vulnerable
without bracing for the pain.
Fighting you is more natural than 
accepting or responding to your affection.
I wish I knew how to love you gently.

[poem] tree of (my) life

There is a tree
Tall and wide, with thick branches
The leaves are vibrant
A life in full color

At the center of the tree there is
what first looks like dark bark
It is wet, sticky, dark
Your fingers would come back red, should you touch it
Don’t touch it – the disease might be catching

It rots
From the inside outward
Slowly seeping
Contaminating every cell that touches it
Changes it or demolishes it
It is a slow growth

There is no telling how deep the poison goes
Not without cutting the tree down
Cutting the trunk apart to see all the rings
Show every dark secret hidden within it’s depths
There is no seeing how far the damage goes
Not without killing the tree

You can try to remove the tree
Replant it somewhere with better soil, more sunlight
The dark roots cropping up around the tree should run deeply
They are thick and gnarled close to the trunk
But when you dig you find they quickly taper
There is no length, no depth to the roots
And what little there is quickly pulls away

The same dripping rot from the core has poisoned the roots
Halting growth, stealing energy
Causing the roots to grow thin and weak
The roots break away easily when you transplant
Enough of the root has remained that the rehoming will not kill it
This has been done before and the tree quickly adapts to its new home

Two question, whispered quietly behind closed doors:
What good does healing the branches do when the core and roots of the tree are poisoned and rotting?
With damage this deep, is it still possible to save the tree?

01 – Magician

01 – The Magician

Everything you need is already within you
You have the power
You are the power
Holding hands with your desire and action
You are breathing new life into thoughts
Take the world by storm
It has been waiting for you

Reversed

You are trying
So hard
But the result is never what you intended
A mismatch
Working hard but hardly working
Wheels spinning but never moving
All talk and no action
Is this what you meant to do?

0 – Fool

0 – The Fool

You are a fresh page
Blank and empty
Overwhelming possibilities
Endless potential
They tell you to look where you leap
But you go blindly
Knowing
Even falling is part of the journey
Within every hurt
There is a lesson
And you reach for the honey
Uncaring of the sting
Knowing
Your enthusiasm is limitless
Welcoming the light of a new day
This, too, is part of living
Reversed

The sting made you falter
The wrong decision
An adventure gone bad
You are paralyzed
Too many decisions
Too few limits
Which one is best?
How can only one person decide?
The thrill is acid in your throat
Turning into fear
It’s holding you back
Where once you would leap
Blindly
Now you hesitate
Uncertain
There is no moving forward from here
You bind yourself in your indecision

Poem: A Slow Alarm

A Slow Alarm
by Britnie Campbell

I feel hopeless and alone today
and in my bottle
the carbonation build up
ready to explode
a slow leaking the only salvation
it hisses softly, never ending
barely making a difference
it leaves me drained but
the pressure still rises
fills me up and pushes me outwards
how much can the glass walls of my body contain
until it shatters and I
implode
explode
the weight of your expectations
crushing me
the shattered glass ground to dust under your foot
my soul aches
the hissing so loud that it has become
background noise
unheard by human ears
there is no fire escape
no safety exit
the walls of my home held together only
by the sheer force of my will
tension high
muscles tight
I try to rebuild my sinking ship
the hissing of the leak
a fire alarm that nobody noticed
my siren calling for help
the car alarm in the city neighborhood
in the dead of night
while my car is broken into
and everyone hears but
nobody checks to find out if it was truly
a false alarm.
my heart, broken and aching,
holding hands with my will to survive
and knowing
that I will get through this
because I always do
bruised and bleeding
hope that has been wrung dry.
the question
barely a whisper
but still asking:
what will survival cost me this time?

 

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5/11/2020 update: corrected a typo