Pain & Heartbreak are My Bedfellows | Poetry

Poetry from August and September, part I

We’re back with some more feels. The past couple of weeks have been really hard. I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster.

Honestly, writing has been hard. I’m in the well of processing and feeling and letting go and reattaching and all the things. Life is beautiful and painful.

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The Void

Written August 26

I scream into the Earth 
And am met with silence. 
The void. 
Nothing. 

The bubbling creek is the only sound 
Reminding me that I am alive, 
That I still have a body.

Somewhere in nature the sun is burning my skin. 
A minute sensation, 
Consequences that I’ll deal with later. 
Like the blisters on my feet 
And rasp in my voice. 

Nothing satiates the pain. 
I ache and ache 
And ache some more. 
It is endless in its yearning, 
All consuming. 

Where does the pain end and I begin? 

---

Untitled

Written September 3

I am walking 
And the ground falls out from under me, 
The abyss calling me home,
My world crashing down. 

My heart shattered, 
Splintered into a million pieces.

My soul burdened 
With the unforgiving weight of loss.
Crumpled and writhing.
I will never be the same.

And life goes on.

---

Caged

Written September 7

I have solidified my own cage 
Over and over. 
Prayed for my freedom 
While feeding my demise. 
A dance of opposites 
Played for eternity. 
My body the puppet, 
My mind the puppet master. 
A bird who never knew the freedom of flight,
Destined to sing away its sorrows. 

Do I dare question the stage 
Upon which I dance? 
My soul seeking solace 
In knowing the game. 
A stoic by accident of thought. 
A reserved heart through practice of disappointment. 
Staking everything on reckless feelings. 

The weight in my chest 
Could burry me at the bottom of the ocean. 
Sinking to the depths to rest for eternity,
Preserved in salty tears. 

And yet, the sun still shines. 
The free birds still sing, 
Dancing across the windowsill. 
I still drink my morning cup of coffee 
And mourn you through my morning pages. 
Spilling my soul in ink,
As warriors once spilled blood,
Because spilling my blood would ruin my beautiful cage. 
Cutting my dance short,
Nothing short of internal war.

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Stick around for part II, which will be posted next week.

All the love (from my tender heart),

Madison