This Time Last Year
It is almost May again and I wonder if I’m doing better than I was this time last year,
Life is never that simple and I am never better because I say so,
I need to build my own umbrellas in the storms of my invisible rain.
At work we have “Mental Health Training” and I wonder why I need training when my life has been a crash course in anxieties, in mountains and valleys, so many I can’t count anymore,
Good days and bad days and all the in betweens.
I go every week to East Ninth Street to be honest with myself,
Put pen to paper and try to understand this thing I live with, every day.
I wonder if I’m doing better than I was this time last year.
This year, I am learning from last’s mistakes.
I am all right, and that is finally okay.
It isn’t raining anymore
The sky stays cloudy, the air is cold.
East Ninth Street is still wet.
Birds chirp and this feels like a sign from the universe,
The storm is beginning to end.
I Could Write About the Rain
I could write about the rain.
I could write about wet umbrellas,
About the keys in my coat pocket,
The puddles around the bean boots on my feet.
I could write about how for the first time in a long time, I am learning to trust my muscles.
I could write how I am learning, again, to swim.
I should remember,
Life is only a summer storm.
The heat and the fire and the wind come quickly,
And if one can stand the rain –
It is cool and quiet and peace,
On the other side.
This Too Shall Pass
This week I am a hurricane, a tempest, a storm,
The winds inside and the warmth of the oceans a death spiral,
A battle nobody can win, tied to the arches of a temple, blinded and strong enough to consume.
The rains come and fall on my broken heart, and I feel the willows of my veins sway and take the thunder.
This too, shall pass.