To be that girl again

I breathe

Listening to the words

In my aching chest of wingless birds

They say

I am afraid

Today I woke and prayed

For a better day

And it didn’t come, though I heard the horses

They were galloping fast, they did not stop

How momma? Do we stay grateful? For every given hour of precious breath?

When scythe of hurt cuts so well and wraps the days away in little vials of hell

How to live in the present, when presently is torture, crushing her toes on pointe?

I try momma, I break the fine bones in my hands in supplicate, my arms making sundials on wanting earth

I ask my toy penguin

He eyes me with the same glass eye he has been using since I was little and he saw me break

And turn to seed and grow back into a girl who recognized he was real

And I know if there were a flood

I’d save before myself, that glass eyed toy

He has seen my days in ways nobody else, could or would

Though he is stuffed and inert, also the witness to each tug of war, his little cloth heart

Beats like a stray moth against my window pane

He tells me to remember

Despair will pass

A bad day is not forever, and so in time we’ll learn to hold, tighter

The unbearable and it may turn, like shaken snow globe, upside-down, white obscuring foul

Some slow imperceptable change of season, a sign, the very beginning starts with one

If he could speak and he does

He’d tell me to be brave and wear my best dress for the clouds cannot and will not persist

Take comfort in those smallest things

It could be one minute in an hours slow turn of hand

It could be one moment out of three weeks broken by tired cries

I am on my knees

I long for peace

And the quiet of memory reminds me

You have been here again and again

You have risen to answer the entreaty of a heart still beating

Longing to be released from her sentence

And if you look closely

There is still

A desire to overcome with the wish of a river to capture rain

Stronger than anything you’ve ever experienced, my penguin knew before myself

He is who I’d save, if the world exploded into flames, curling value to cinder

I am reminded of what I can feel by his capacity to shake, my despair out of her plan

To hang by tree and catch late afternoons air, as dead as last night’s terror

And I stroke his face

Wishing with everything that stuffs and fills to become me

To be free to laugh again

I promise him

To be that girl again

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42 thoughts on “To be that girl again

  1. I was near tears here:

    “I ask my toy penguin

    He eyes me with the same glass eye he has been using since I was little and he saw me break

    And turn to seed and grow back into a girl who recognized he was real

    And I know if there were a flood

    I’d save before myself, that glass eyed toy

    He has seen my days in ways nobody else, could or would

    Though he is stuffed and inert, also the witness to each tug of war, his little cloth heart

    Beats like a stray moth against my window pane

    He tells me to remember

    Despair will pass”

    And, it is the freezing rain and thinking about losing Jernee and if health will sustain for you and others suffering in their fits of personal terror. Your heart is in this. I doubt anyone could read it and not feel the twinge that hits the instant you mention the penguin.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. It came after our conversation of the other day. Somehow, we will all get through, maybe by being kind with one another we’ll be able to in a way we could not if alone. Jernee is much like her best friend Tre, she’s a tough little ball of fire, very little has the power to quench her.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh my, my, my. Such a tug of war between the deep deep pain we truly feel and imported ideas of how we need to ‘rise above’ or ‘get beyond’ or just… just… lost for words ❤ This was difficult to read toward the end I think it needs to be read many times to fully absorb all it contains. Hugs sweet friend.. its such a painful journey. ❤

    Like

  3. Out of suffering comes so much eloquent, poignant, beautiful poetry. When a minute can seem like an eternity we come to know our deepest self. This you’re doing, and I’m in awe of your strength and the depth of your poetry, and what your beloved toy penguin means to you. It too represents eternity.
    I truly empathize and resonate, Candice. Suffering wrings us out into something ever more beautiful. Sending you hugs, as always. 💕💞

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Good for you. You keep making that promise. That girl is still alive! She is veiled by pain and sorrow, but she is alive. Talk to her, feed her, nurture her by asking what she’d like to do today and then do it.You can do this my beautiful and fine friend. Love and hugs, Natalie 🙂 ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Not sure what’s more heartfelt for me…reading your beautifully written poem, or reading the thoughtful & beautiful reactions your writing elicits from your friends. Hugs C ❤

    Like

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