Take me by the hand
and walk me out of this hole.
this hole of despair.
keep whispering in my ear.
and moving me forward one step at a time.
The muscles in my face ache
the ones I use to keep the mask in place.
The muscles in my shoulders throb.
my hands are limp and heavy.
silent sobs wrack my body.
my head is dizzy.
why can’t I get myself out of thIs prison of sadness.
loneliness, isolation and disconnection?
my voice is dumb.
the emptiness palpable.
I grasp at thin air.
trying to hold on.
how soon can I go to sleep and escape the pain.
high rolling waves of anxiety heave through me.
Be grateful for whatever comes, say Rumi.
welcome and invite them in.
I don’t think there would be any holding this back.
but I can’t say I’m feeling gratitude
I do have much to be grateful for of course but.
a soft moan escapes on my breath.
It is good for something, no matter how small, to escape.
I feel so locked up inside.
bound and gagged
deaf and blind.
numbed out in a vegetative state.
stuffing the pain down with food.
anaesthetizing with alcohol.
I am grateful I have a pen.
an unrelenting connection after all
and a belligerent right hand.
that can allow some truth to flow through
The storm surge passes.
And I am left washed up on the shore
for the time being at least