Lost

Lost

Lost

A Poem by Holly Day

 

I’m not going to say his name, but he was in pain

I could tell he was in pain even though I couldn’t see his eyes

through his sunglasses, didn’t register the limp until he moved.

There was a wave of anger and pain every time he sighed

most of the time I thought it was directed at me.

 

 

There are birds inside all of us struggling to break free

in poetry, or song, or through bright swaths of paint

some of us have stronger birds inside of us

than those of other people, and while that sounds

magical and wonderful, it’s not. It’s better to be filled with sparrows

that will never find the strength to rip free

 

than to be filled with creatures vital enough to be felt

all of the time, powerful enough

to break through one’s skin and fly free at any given moment

leaving nothing but the hollowed-out shell of a shattered human being

in their wake.

 

Locked In

Locked In

Left Behind By the Rake

Left Behind By the Rake