loss and other gifts
I lost myself the other day,
just woke up in the night to feel her fly away,
and when the morning came, it felt so strange
to walk and talk like anyone would, just the same
as all the other souls, and no one could see
that I was not myself. I was not me.
So I cut myself, to see if I still bled,
and starved myself, and searched my head,
and couldn’t find the person I once knew,
who had a whole heart, and was not split in two.
Old photographs show a self I cannot remember,
bright eyes shining out of a cold, dead November,
and then I was peaceful, and angry, and sore,
and I didn’t know what my feet were for.
I lost myself the other day,
and so I chose to wander away,
off into the distance, into the strange and wild,
finally rid of that sad, small child.
I walked to the kingdoms cut into the rock,
and sailed seven seas, and finally found port.
Deserts where the sand draws you deep,
lands where all the soldiers sleep,
and broke my own heart and stitched up the wound,
and spoke all my secrets to a waning, wan moon.
I know what it means to be sad, broken and cold,
I know what it is to be young and feel old.
I lost myself, for a little while,
but all winds change,
in time.
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