When you are younger, everything is a challenge
I will not let them break me / I will fight back / I will survive!
as you get older you see
or you hear
or maybe it’s just a sense
in the air
or a turning of
light
changing
clenching your heart
sorrow wells up
a pool from nowhere
upon which you see
no reflection
only the insubstantial flickering
of someone
trying to survive
skate even
on cracking surface
too thin for the weight of
all those doubts
shadows without names
time piled high
playing broken records
and though you skate fast
and nimbly
there is numbness in your effort
as if you wish to finally be
caught
submerged
ice leaching your hot discontent
with page turned days
and ironed nights
into a drowning
of all the pain captured and glazed
within your center
where no-one looks
because adults are not
children with sticky hands out
being picked up and comforted
they are supposed to be
warriors
haven’t you read the literature?
didn’t you attend therapy for
a number of years where
it was reiterated perpetually
between biscuit breaks and tepid coffee in plastic cups
like a long string of words
thisandthatthisandthat
not meaningful enough
for a necklace
about how we are the masters
of our fate
it is up to us to fight
the temptation to slit our
fucking throats
and watch as the deepest
red bled
on snowy white
surface
a contrast we ache for
in nights howl
just when the fangs of doubt
seethes loudest and
the pain of being truly
alone is not
comforted by
bouquets of self talk and
P.O.S.I.T.I.V.I.T.Y.
looking thin and translucent
in candle light
only reminder of
times broken hearts thought
they could be well and whole
just as plug is pulled
the doll wound down
we sag and droop
remembering the sore rub
of innocence and how
we believed then in futures
unstrung and awaiting
not yet familiar with
sore eyes from so many tears
even as we say
do not cry again you foolish person
oh how I hate the weakness of
someone who weeps even as they
should have known
(you fool! You fool!)
oh how they should have
known
we all
fall
down
only some of us
wish to
pick
ourselves
up
the rest may not and it isn’t
your place to judge us
if we’d rather
tear at our flesh
or hammer the senseless walls
of our former trust
until bruises bloom like
underwater flowers
and knives can cut
some of the pain from
proffered wrists though
water tinged with scarlet
is no welcome
as I stand not wishing to
continue this charade
of being invested in life
or its many fascinations
you see
or you would
if you had ever
meant half or quarter
of the lies tasting so good now
they are settled and dark on my
closed eyes
for when you shut yourself
in a box and the magician taps
one two three
it is then opened and you are
not revealed
for you have
crossed over
maybe where those who cannot
perform magic themselves
must go
to escape the erasure of
each day spent hoping
pain will give up her lament
no she does not
quit so easily then
it is ours to turn the volume
down as we sink
beneath weeds and lily pad
to distant place where before it all
churned a terrible hurt
there was the reprieve of
knowing nothing of life’s scythe
and our simple steps made in earnest
before it was clear
there is no strength in survival
beyond what we endure
it is surely about
the language of loss
and if for some
it takes them
with it
then so
it may
be
the end
with
a soft
closing of
words
don’t forget
to buy
flowers
Reblogged this on TheFeatheredSleep and commented:
My latest poem for Whisper & the Roar.
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Lovely poem; such pain, though. I’ve been there myself. But for love of the world, I have always come back. I hope you will continue to come back, too.
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:_(
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Beauty in sadness? Truth in truth?
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A litany of names and faces (tear-stained or coldly decided) plays out, of final calls or notes or silence, some “saved” for a while — no, not judged, and, yes, flowers.
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Exactly xx
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Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
Candice Louisa Daquin brings to The Whisper And The Roar a whispered roar.
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Thank you Bob xx
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Heartbreaking truth, beautifully written ❤
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Thank you sweetheart
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You’re welcome ❤
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So many lines in this express soul truths I have felt. I think there is such pressure to make of pain something positive or ‘meaningful’, to deny the depth of it and too many pains can crush us…..so much truth in this.. beautifully articulated as usual. ❤
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I love when I see you have been here it makes me so glad be side I know we have always understood each other so well.
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Aww Yes!! I’m sorry Ive been a bit absent of late..Ive loved catching up in your latest poems. 🤗
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Such wonderful imagery suggestive of your awful pain. I am a survivor, too. I was five. I am happy you got back up!!! Keep going. Poetry healed me from trauma. It has become the air I breathe. My thoughts will be with you from here on out. Prayers too. Best always.
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