Celebration of the dying flame

In the summer dreary
I wake from dreaming, leary
Living in a haze of before

Last looks leave me reeling
Last words etching
Seven years to be free

Stride into winter
Calling out the world to come
Reborn in the cold expanse

One second to collapse
That small puncture
Leaking air

Give me a moment to breathe
Never let me go
Never hold me enough
What’s one more day

One more day
In an eternity of without

What echos forward

I have been trying to write for over an hour. For me, that’s a long time. Usually 10-15 minutes and an idea or seed forms.

All I can think about is something I already wrote. Just this mantra, over and over

“This is a broken world.
But You are not broken.”

I may be broke. I may be damaged. But this world has not broken me.

I find this repeating in my head often lately. I find it’s more true today than when I wrote it. It’s like past me was reaching out to future me with a truth that I needed.

This IS a broken world
But I am NOT broken

Breaking down

Breaking down
Self imposed barriers
Last bastions of sanity
Last soldiers holding the line
Scraping out the lining of bags long closed
Opening doors nailed shut

Breaking down
Remember the pieces that didn’t fit the narrative of self
Remember the fights
Remember being young
Remember being stupid
Remember walking in front of speeding vehicles with a glib phrase and the secret desire to die

Breaking down
Remembering the unkind words and the immediate regret and the silence that followed
two people hurting and hurting each other to feel human for a few minutes before they went back to drowning separately
Remembering trying to be the hero for unheroic reasons
To rescue for the reward instead of to defend this battered soul of youth
Remembering days of loneliness and ache masked behind moments of epiphany

Breaking down
The long slow climb out of oblivion
Out of the things done and not done
out of the pits of what have I done
And the tainted desire for a little more
And the bitter poison fruit of vengeance
In whose seeds bore the sweetness of peace
Trying to save everyone because I could not save her
Waking paranoia because a moments inattention caused a lifetime of pain

Breaking down
There are lifetimes within lifetimes and deaths within deaths. Sometimes change is not enough and what was must be allowed to fade

Breaking down

How awful to think it

If I could save her, of course I would, of course. It’s easy to say, discounting all the years past that point. Discounting all the changes I made to be a better person.

Of course, I’d go, I’d be there and that would make the difference.
If I could save her I would.
If I could make a different choice
I would
And accept that it means that the man I am now would be annihilated.
All of those experiences that turned me, minute by minute would be destroyed as well.

Of course, I’d save her. Of course.
Knowing how it happened, knowing it all.
Of course, I’d save her. Of course.

And accept that saving her, means dying in her stead. I’d still be breathing but the man I am now would never be. The love I’ve experienced, the people I’ve met, the family I’ve connected with, the goddess of my heart. It all gets snuffed out, turned on the wheel of a choice.

Of course I’d save her
Of course