A handful of Dust

14/5/21

Rage:

Something heavy
Something that would shatter
If flung across.
Oh I need it- to shatter
To grit my teeth
To tighten my fists
To roar.
All in my head, I must be satisfied
With just these images.
For I cannot rage, I cannot break something heavy
Crushing my own rebellion
I sit tight and wonder.

Sorrow

Tears swell up
A sickening ache
Brews in my core.
A quite sniffle
Is all that I let out,
For I cannot cry.
Will not? Perhaps.
Cannot.
The heaviness plummets
And anchors itself to the bottom
Refusing to rise to the surface.

Happiness

Oh nothing
But a vague notion.
In times of crisis
I’m entangled in the mess
Of the present.
For I cannot reminisce
Nor romanticize,
The past or the future.
Times like these, I live in the moment
Indulging in the present
Burying myself in the pain.

Void

All the
Emotions and feelings
Churning mercilessly
Loses voice in the noise.
Over time,
None stand out.
For all that I can grasp
Is this emptiness, a barren swathe
Consuming me whole, rendering me detached.
I feel none-
Rage, sorrow, joy, pain.

I succumb to the vast nothing.

(A year back was a dark place. But it produced my most honest piece yet. I’ve published this as a reminder to myself of how when the skies seem to come crashing down, all we need is a little time.)