I breathe
Listening to the words
In my aching chest of wingless birds
They say
I am afraid
Today I woke and prayed
For a better day
And it didn’t come, though I heard the horses
They were galloping fast, they did not stop
How momma? Do we stay grateful? For every given hour of precious breath?
When scythe of hurt cuts so well and wraps the days away in little vials of hell
How to live in the present, when presently is torture, crushing her toes on pointe?
I try momma, I break the fine bones in my hands in supplicate, my arms making sundials on wanting earth
I ask my toy penguin
He eyes me with the same glass eye he has been using since I was little and he saw me break
And turn to seed and grow back into a girl who recognized he was real
And I know if there were a flood
I’d save before myself, that glass eyed toy
He has seen my days in ways nobody else, could or would
Though he is stuffed and inert, also the witness to each tug of war, his little cloth heart
Beats like a stray moth against my window pane
He tells me to remember
Despair will pass
A bad day is not forever, and so in time we’ll learn to hold, tighter
The unbearable and it may turn, like shaken snow globe, upside-down, white obscuring foul
Some slow imperceptable change of season, a sign, the very beginning starts with one
If he could speak and he does
He’d tell me to be brave and wear my best dress for the clouds cannot and will not persist
Take comfort in those smallest things
It could be one minute in an hours slow turn of hand
It could be one moment out of three weeks broken by tired cries
I am on my knees
I long for peace
And the quiet of memory reminds me
You have been here again and again
You have risen to answer the entreaty of a heart still beating
Longing to be released from her sentence
And if you look closely
There is still
A desire to overcome with the wish of a river to capture rain
Stronger than anything you’ve ever experienced, my penguin knew before myself
He is who I’d save, if the world exploded into flames, curling value to cinder
I am reminded of what I can feel by his capacity to shake, my despair out of her plan
To hang by tree and catch late afternoons air, as dead as last night’s terror
And I stroke his face
Wishing with everything that stuffs and fills to become me
To be free to laugh again
I promise him
To be that girl again
42 Replies to “To be that girl again”
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so emotiona… the glass eyed toy mention was my favourite part..
I held my breath the entire reading. Riveting~
I used to have a stuffed animal that served a similar purpose for me.. many times I wished I would have kept it .. your poems and friendship often serve me well .. xx
So beautiful, and powerful. Well done!
Penguin thanks you 💓
Oh, my sister! Right to the heart ❤️
Your poetry is one epiphany, after another – thank you. You hit so many proverbial nails on their heads. Brilliant, truthful and full of meaning & heart, look forward to your posts 🙂
I was near tears here:
“I ask my toy penguin
He eyes me with the same glass eye he has been using since I was little and he saw me break
And turn to seed and grow back into a girl who recognized he was real
And I know if there were a flood
I’d save before myself, that glass eyed toy
He has seen my days in ways nobody else, could or would
Though he is stuffed and inert, also the witness to each tug of war, his little cloth heart
Beats like a stray moth against my window pane
He tells me to remember
Despair will pass”
And, it is the freezing rain and thinking about losing Jernee and if health will sustain for you and others suffering in their fits of personal terror. Your heart is in this. I doubt anyone could read it and not feel the twinge that hits the instant you mention the penguin.
It came after our conversation of the other day. Somehow, we will all get through, maybe by being kind with one another we’ll be able to in a way we could not if alone. Jernee is much like her best friend Tre, she’s a tough little ball of fire, very little has the power to quench her.
Flip that and put it on you. You’ve batted down other things… somehow, I know this thing will get swatted too. 💙
Yes. I have to believe that too or I wouldn’t be able to keep going. Thank you.
You are very much welcome.
A wise bird, and a poet, wise to listen and write so of pain and that promise of something better.
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
TheFeatheredSleep – taking the counsel and witness of a beloved “toy”.
Oh my, my, my. Such a tug of war between the deep deep pain we truly feel and imported ideas of how we need to ‘rise above’ or ‘get beyond’ or just… just… lost for words <3 This was difficult to read toward the end I think it needs to be read many times to fully absorb all it contains. Hugs sweet friend.. its such a painful journey. <3
Out of suffering comes so much eloquent, poignant, beautiful poetry. When a minute can seem like an eternity we come to know our deepest self. This you’re doing, and I’m in awe of your strength and the depth of your poetry, and what your beloved toy penguin means to you. It too represents eternity.
I truly empathize and resonate, Candice. Suffering wrings us out into something ever more beautiful. Sending you hugs, as always. 💕💞
Good for you. You keep making that promise. That girl is still alive! She is veiled by pain and sorrow, but she is alive. Talk to her, feed her, nurture her by asking what she’d like to do today and then do it.You can do this my beautiful and fine friend. Love and hugs, Natalie 🙂 <3
So heartrendingly courageous
You chose your totem very well – penguin has so much to offer:
Dreams
Renewal
Intuition
Evolution
Liminality
Protection
Community
Adaptability
Faithfulness
Resourcefulness
Unconventionality
and more – see here : http://www.whats-your-sign.com/symbolic-penguin-facts.html
Not sure what’s more heartfelt for me…reading your beautifully written poem, or reading the thoughtful & beautiful reactions your writing elicits from your friends. Hugs C <3
You have such a gift to transform suffering into works of depth and beauty, Candice, although I wish you did not need to suffer so. <3
I think there is nothing better than a silent friend who has seen it all… and he can tell you with those eyes that it will be better soon… hug your penguin.
On this evidence, you still are …
wow. So beautiful… <3
Beautiful !!!!!!! I don’t want to remember anything until I was 28 years old. My past moved me forward with strength and the knowledge whatever happens I’ll survive.
Hugs
Candice I’ve tagged you for a fun post, it only take a couple of minutes and 4 nominations. I hope you participate, I look forward to learning more about you. M
OOPS! Gave you wrong name of post it’s A little about Me. Sorry for the mix up. 🙂
You’re so right, the past moves us forward!
Everyday!
Thank you so much and
💓💓
That’s great!
💓 thank you
Thank you. Sorry been very sick. I appreciate you
Wow thank you so very much 💓💓
Ditto.
I’ve been worried about you, Candice. Sending healing thoughts and prayers. ❤️
If toys could speak, many would be in jail….
Oooh this made my heart hurt deep
Love you my friend
Love you back!
<3