There is a sad, humbling peace
beneath the soft pain of realizing
I am as helpless as the trees
to prevent the age old forests
from being torn down in one day
for the filth stained greed that
most others foolishly believe
is a benefit to my species
but we are not the same breed
I am just another animal
left homeless in the wreckage
forced to watch the endless rape
of our most holy mother earth
as I tremble with the reeds
bearing witness to the pain
pulsating through all of nature
is the only gesture I can offer
to lie down alongside
my fellow woodland creatures
beneath the brutal, blood-soaked
wheels of industry as we watch
the death of beauty
the end of everything
Small comfort in tiny hands
you needed me to be someone
so much better than I am
The end of suffering can still be sad
I wish I could have given you
the life that you deserved
Death always comes in winter
when the ground is unforgiving
I wanted to lay you to rest peacefully
In the warm soil of summer
when covering your small form
wouldn't have felt so cruel
May you finally find rest
among the tangled roots
snaking beneath the earth
I try to save the best for last
but my soul is overcast with
the heavy burden of knowing
Every ultimate end will be ugly
each life closes in vicious stillness and
the aching mystery of an empty vessel
Sorrow sticks to me
with the tiny talons
of woodland things
clever velcro claws
that trap and tear
Joy is thick and sweet
like dense droplets of oil
that slip easily through
the liquid membrane
of my water-logged mind
As if my soul were fine tuned
to the piercing puncture wounds
of even mild misfortunes
but immune to the equally
abundant presence of pleasure
Cursed to carry the wrong container
and collect only itching burs
but not buoyant blessings
regardless of the quantity of each
that happen to come my way
A cup for gratitude that has a crack
or even worse, a burlap sack
that can only attract and hold
the heavy, solid moments that hurt
while every drop of delight drips through
A faulty, backward magnetic field
that repels the currents that heal
but quickly aligns with what's unpleasant
the unnatural effort to help myself
is more tiring than circling the drain
Forests that spent
hundreds of years flourishing
are flattened in a single day
Construction sounds
that keep me up at night
from the new fracking site
I can't bear to crest another hill
and see a desolate dirt pile where
there was once a green sea of leaves
Cranes have pushed out the animals
that once inhabited the dense forest
barren landscapes replace all life
Human destruction is so much faster
than mother nature's graceful hands
exponential progression toward the end
Sorrow rises like smoke
from the ashes of a dying love
it wiggles and writhes through the air
mimicking my desperation to avoid
to postpone these violent pangs of pain
could things really be different
should I reconsider this decision
or am I just searching for relief
from this reality I do not want
which self should I trust
the one that has been unsatisfied
the one feeling frustration and misunderstanding
or should I trust the self that feels this parting
as a small death, as a gaping wound
in the end I'm left wondering
watching the fading embers
with fear in my heart
unsure of whether to keep watching
or try to stoke that flame, that love
that was once my life
I think it’s very interesting how many people I’ve heard say they don’t like change. I am one of them. Yet change is the only true constant in this world of ours. Without change none of us would even exist as we are. Just like with most things, it can be beautiful and also terrible. Just a few weeks ago I was quite excited about all the new changes that seemed to be happening in my life. Now as things continue to develop and change even further, I feel as though change is no longer a friend, but a bitter enemy.
At times like these I try to remind myself of all the changes in my life that initially felt unbearable, that ended up leading to some of my greatest joys. You can never really tell what even the smallest change may mean down the road. At the very least, it is an opportunity to practice letting go. Something I’ve never been very good at. I’m surprised my fingers are not just bloodied stumps from all the clinging I’ve done in my life.
One of the things I struggle with when facing an unpleasant change is whether or not to surrender to the sadness and pain that accompany it. I never know when I am just letting myself experience a healthy amount of painful emotions or when I am feeding those same emotions. Surely it isn’t healthy to turn away from every pang of the heart, but at the same time it is so easy to fall further into that deep dark hole that I’m still working to climb out of.
I suppose when I was younger there wasn’t much of a choice to be made. It was impossible to deny the feeling of raking claws across my chest, tearing at my tender heart. It seems like I used to cry so often as I was lying down to sleep at night. I never thought I could actually miss those awful moments of sorrow. Yet now I almost long to feel in the way that I once could. For years now, it has been nearly impossible for me to cry. It isn’t that I haven’t had reason to. The tears just don’t seem to come anymore. Instead of stinging eyes, now I only feel this strange gaping chasm behind my ribs, a terrible emptiness.
Protect the Innocent 