The year was 2005
an explosion rocked
the quiet neighborhood
of my emotions
afterward, wiping debris off
seeing my reflection, a soot covered mask
I could not hear anything anymore
except the ringing of my heart
which beat far too fast
anxiety
got me
by the throat
and choked
the peace
out
like a burlap bag and lump of coal can still burn in snow
it took years to mend
like piecing a broken bowl with slim chain of gold
smoothing cracks that have become so used
to remaining fissures
and even then, a hair-line fracture exists
permitting a little light
disturbance
felt in darkness as you turn
trying to dream
when trauma
explodes bombs
in your quiet space
it’s not the sound you lose
but the belief that anything
will ever
be okay again
yet there is a lesson learned
in suffering we survive
in survival we know
next time
if there is a next time and there always is
we may lament and hurt
fall to our knees as debris rains down
but surely afterward, we will stand again
that is the enduring legacy
of survival
and even betrayal
and even death
does not contain enough
to outwit our yearning
to outfox the determining
steel hand of fate
slapping us down
we rise like Atlantic waves in August
will conjure wet inferno, juxtaposing
energies like herculean warriors
in great walls of dark water
hitting each other until there is nothing
but smooth glass remaining
and a fever tells us
it is over
for now
with wobbling legs we
survey the wreckage
of ourselves
realizing with pain comes
a long after-tow and if
you hang on long enough
the sun
breaks
through
low-lying
cloud
warming those
who believed themselves
expired
Thank you SO MUCH for this! Much appreciated my friend!
I like the part of the snow. Fantastic piece Candice, as always.
Thank you♡
Always such pleasure, always
” if there is a next time and there always is” so perfectly describes my recurring depression. Each time, I try to recognize the signs sooner and recover faster. My goal is not to be defined by my illness. Thank you for sharing your gifts!
Oy! I’m here 🙂 But not for long – the road calls. Like this one
I love that! The road calls! I want to be with you guys!
Thank you so very much!♡ you are appreciated very much!♡
Ps hugs♡
In thought and heart 🙂
You finished this softly. Very well done, Candice.
Beautiful summary of struggle❤
I love it when you post something this powerful and profound!!! 🙂 ❤
PS. May I share this?
I googled the explosion, but I guess the poem is essentially a powerful metaphor
In poetry we survive…
Excellent and true
Si!
My lovely friend. I don’t think I have the share option on my site anymore, if you know another way? I don’t! But I’m a techno flop! 😉
Thank you!
Thank you so much!
On a good day 😉 (thank you dearest rose girl)
You’re quite welcome, dear one. 🤓
I do actually. I think I can just cut and paste and I won’t include the name of your site so that none of the past “jerks” can find you. I’ll just include your name. Je t’aime, Natalie 🙂 ❤
Always so grateful to you FOR you. x
I consider myself to be a survivor, so I absolutely love this poem. Beautiful.
Then you’ve given me the honor by understanding at that experience level♡
gorgeous. “an explosion rocked/the quiet neighborhood/of my emotions”
Honestly, if all language was so meaty and beautiful, we wouldn’t need food
Thank you❌⭕
(the vegetarian eats a carrot and nods her head)
😉 (thank you dearheart)