Names for the unknown

This morning I cried. The holes of a heart that don’t feel like holes at all, but pressure building with no holes to breathe out of. The condensation building by the edge of glass. That’s what happens – breath turns to water.
I felt abandoned by someone who would probably never abandoned me. But that’s what lonely is, isn’t it? Feeling the light by the bedside is only the ghost of a light. This morning it felt hard to be a writer. Or maybe it just felt hard to be me and writing is just the fluid release. My entire leg fell asleep and I couldn’t even feel it happening. And what makes it happen – you go to sleep one way and wake up another? You go to sleep feeling strong and fierce and your dreams make you tired. 8 hours in another world wholly your own. That other life in your already doubled life that’s now doubled and doubled. But you cry for a long time. See yourself in your room as a little girl crying for a long time – this is nothing new. The hole you renamed a well not too long ago. Names to the unknowns of us to make them known. Isn’t that what poetry is?

This entry was posted in Sigh, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

 

Valid XHTML Strict and CSS