Isn't that always the plight of beautiful things?
“They chased after you with their cruel, ignorant words
Wanted to bind you up and put you in their jars
Just another marvelous beast captured
Another pretty creature broken, but still alive, just barely
But you wouldn’t have it
When they jabbed at you with their sharp little lies
When they went in to pin your wings to the cardboard, well
You just sidestepped right off the earth, flitted straight up
To where no one could touch you, not even us.
And the world sobbed silently for you, one more beautiful thing lost.”
My dear friend,
close your eyes…
hold my hand,
and hear me whisper…
The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs;
The stiff Heart questions–was it He that bore?
And yesterday–or centuries before?
The feet, mechanical, go round
A wooden way
Of ground, or air, or ought,
Regardless grown,
A quartz contentment, like a stone.
This is the hour of lead
Remembered if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow–
First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.” – Emile Dickenson
Maybe not today, tomorrow or even next year
but one day you will wake up from this nightmare.
Memories will serve as a sweet peace and
prayer will be your power
Eventually, you will wake up one day
and it will be o.k.
