My high school French teacher
told us in class one day that it’s important
to be “comfortable in our skin”.
My skin is simply a boundary.
It draws a perimeter for the others,
dividing the delicate from the wilds.
It contains the sensitive ones, guards my vitality,
and houses a precarious family of slight dysfunction.
I’ve been wrong about a lot, but one big thing is that this can’t be fixed. It can be fixed! It can be fixed! It can be fixed! There’s one way. Just one.
I was not prepared for this
Stage of life I find myself in
Things were improving with years
Until they weren’t
And my shadow form has started punching down
In ways I could never see coming
After shoving me into the ring
Morning brought no change;
with burning scents on the wind
routine drives forward
The haunting persists:
I carry on ignoring
its calls for reset
(Follow up to Senryū 2025.03.27)
Another sleep comes soon
hoping morning brings waking
changed or not at all
(Followed by Senryū 2025.03.28 #1, #2)
Chasing hopeful light
Persevering night and day
I am still running
(Written on reflection of Wanting to be Wrong from last November.)
Time after time I cast those stones back to its pinned head
Bloodied it raw — tore the faceless mass to ribbons
A pebble for every tear trapped behind a dry eye
A rock for every scream buried in a tight chest
…
The other night as I drifted off to sleep
With tiny quiet dread, my heart whispered to me
A wicked truth newly discovered:
Wolves at night
Charging under the black
Glitter-stars above
Dinner-plate moon lighting our way
We froth at our jowls
We’ve never felt hunger like this before
…
Emboldened by past success,
I stand firm but unfrozen when I see it.
If it wakes, will it give chase?
Will it toy with me, or pursue to kill?
The quiet peace brings forth
The familiar forest sounds that soothe:
The wind that makes it to the branches,
The birds chirping for each other,
The rustling of hungry deer in the brush.
…