I want to help

I want to hold your hand
and pull you up
and out
and remind you that
I am inside your heart
and that you are not alone.

I want you to remember
that there was a you
once before
who,
drenched in light,
danced barefoot through days
and held your hands up
in surrender
to what was going to be.

I want you to dance again.

I want you to realise
that what you are now
is just shadow
and that shadows are cast
where light shines
and that there will always be
something
to run towards.

I want you to know
that I will go nowhere
if you do not come
because my hand
is in your hand
and we are in this
together.

Where are we going?

There is a minute
between the end
and the beginning
when neither one is more
than the other
and nothing is better
than what was before.

Because knowing that change
is the only choice
does not make it easier.
It only becomes harder to find
salvation in what you have
as you move farther from what you know.

The farther I walk
the faster I realise
that I know not nearly as much
as I thought I did.

It doesn't matter

It doesn't matter what I am told
or what I know
or if I know nothing at all.
It doesn't matter if I smile
and you look someplace else
and pretend you didn't see.
It doesn't matter if
you get up each morning
and go to bed each night
walking through each day
without one single thought of us.
It doesn't matter
if it is matter of fact
or matter of opinion
or if I'll never be certain either way.
Because all that matters
is that you are here

and I am here

and that maybe one day
we will be here

together.

Where light used to be

I have left a piece of my heart in so many places
that there is none left
and I can see only what is wrong
and nothing else.

Now there is a gap where light used to be
because people told me their truth
and disregarded mine
and I was silent

and I was silenced.

Pulled under and into days
made in somebody elses likeness
and disappearing beneath words
that are said only to fill holes
is still not enough to quieten
the one truth I know for sure.

That there is something else.
Always.

Nothing but your name

If you could see inside my head today
you would see nothing but your name
scrawled on every surface.

Each letter written in marker pen
and drawn with an unsteady hand.

Though each task I face
has become most impossible to complete
it is a burden that I bear gladly.

With relish I will walk through today
unable to behave accordingly
if it means my thoughts are filled with only you
and you are here
without really being here.

What the Reb taught me.

There is nothing underneath my feet
because I don't believe
and I don't see how I can.

Whilst I move even nearer to nothing more
I consider opposing ideas even less
but come no closer to unshakeable truth
only further away from where I started.

And I am envious.
And I shouldn't be. 

I have spent too much time preoccupied
by the need for certainty.
All the while knowing,
that having faith
means needing no proof
at all.

I need only be willing.

My New Years Resolution

If I was brave you would love me. Attempt number two.

I am tongue tied when we speak
because in my head you are somebody else entirely.

We eat sandwiches in the park and you talk about your parents.
Your mum was raised by the ocean
and skimmed stones in the water.
She's frightened of most things now
because life didn't turn out how she thought it would.
Except for you.
You are her anchor to the good she used to see everywhere.

You are the good that I see.

I write notes on scraps of paper and tuck them into the pockets of your jeans
so you'll find them when I'm somewhere else
and you're missing me.
And when you come home and I am there
I know for sure that it is right
Because it is us.

And I am the good that you see.

So when we speak I forget my words
and make jokes to fill gaps between your questions
because I remember what we are somewhere else
and I want you to know.

Me. January 3rd 2012.

How can I be anything
when anything is,
in equal parts,
both too much
and not nearly enough?

I acquiesced and am to blame.

I am tired.
I am tired of waiting.
I am ready for this to be what it is supposed to be.

Until then I will stay
because I don't know how not to
because there is nowhere else to go
because faith that it will work
is sometimes better than
nothing
at
all.

Not Big Enough

I’ve discovered carbon paper. I knew it existed of course but now it’s become all that I think about, sort of.
This poem is about being a carbon copy of what you were before without any of the substance. Forgetting yourself in order to survive or get through rough, horrible, awful life shit.
Its about putting on a brave face and keeping on going, even when you don’t know how.