Shadow and Light, pt. 3

Tell me, do you know

if it will get better?

Sometimes, it feels

like it’s lasting forever.

Caught in the tide,

dodging pain like the weather;

so they say that we’re all

birds of a feather.

Keep trying, they say.

Can’t you see I’m trying?

Keep fighting, they say.

Can’t you see I’m fighting?

It’s all cyclical, so I’m cynical

that I will lift off from the ground.

It’s all typical, so I’m quizzical

that the solution will be found.

Change your mindset, they say,

and you will recover.

Change your habits, they say,

and you will be tougher.

I will heed what they say,

and I will try to survive.

I will do what they say,

and I will try to thrive.

Like a tree grows in Brooklyn

from a crack in cement,

I will grow where I’m planted

until my years are all spent.

One year to the day

when you emailed the good news,

but I still remind myself you’re safe.

I wonder if your death

would have broken my faith.

Still I try to hold on to hope,

to bottle the light

instead of fear.

I try to snip the memories of grief

that threaten to tear.

You don’t deserve to be victim of my clinginess,

the knife with claws on your shirt

and blade in my abdomen.

You don’t deserve to be victim of my brokenness,

the mind that twists reality into falsehood,

that forgets who I am.

So I close my eyes and set it down:

My fear

The pleas

The desperation.

I love by holding on,

and I love by letting go.