Labor Pains (poems)

waves

When the fluid dynamics of sorrow

follow no pattern, bear no rhythm,

I only recognize the toxic slew

when a wave hits.

And makes me want to throw up.

I ride them slow.

Falling off one of these will hurl me in dark places

I do not want to visit.

But in my mind, I have already.

Hanging from rafters,

Bleeding in a warm bath,

Surrendering to pills.

My tears swell just before they pour, when

suffering invades my brain

and leaves room for nothing else. 

I am scared, 

I don't want to die.

The flood of tears breaches the levees

of my eyelids

as immense sorrow washes over me.

I breathe and concentrate on my breathing.

The wave breaks.

My heart gets drenched with the toxins of loss.

HELENA!

Whose flight I cannot stop mourning.

I gasp for air.

I pray for a friendly voice, a live connection,

a human raft, 

a consciousness who will hold me

until the wave has passed.

I breathe through the tears.

The shame of my lability stops me from calling.

I remember teachings:

Contemplate the thought, behold the sadness,

and regain your bearings.

The wave recedes, trailed by

rivulets of liquid hurt racing after it.

I breathe without attention.

I breathe without crying.

I breathe.

Made it! One more time, without drowning.

I turn inward and feel my being smile.

Made it! 

I am spent, shaking, but elated to be alive!

And I rejoice in the joy.

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