When Sorrow Comes Home

So much they don’t know, like:

How I do numeric license plate

Reduction to get through traffic;

How I count my breaths

In grocery store lines to

Stay in control of an

Agoraphobic mind, or

How my ear buzzes when

Sound is too loud, and

I cannot hear my own volume

So my voice elevates and

Irritates the unknowing. She

Is a weird one, that lady who

Doesn’t know enough about

Our world because she grew

Up the odd girl, chained away

From life; and when she emerged

They piled on more hurt;

More pain: more disdain for

The oddity, and now as I

Sit inside my knowing, a

Warning washes over me.

Take cover. They are

Closing in with surface

Love again; the reel in, so

There can be a target

For the knife throwing game.

I pack my bags for the

Faithful woods where

Trees accept me for me, and

Flowers smile, even on

Rainy days, because in these

Breakable moments, I have

Paid atonement for graven

Mistakes made from a mind

Riddled with bullet holes, and

When they want you to fold in

Like a tiny infant, and they

Want your voice low, if not

Silent, it’s time to go; into the

Hills where nature embraces

And erases wounds with care.

I can’t force understanding or

Even acceptance. Rejection

Leaves glass shards in the heart.

I process sadness, that there are

Chains some humans will refuse to break,

And they’ll create more aching and hate

In forward generations, leaving

More and more separation.

Healing is a decision, one made

With such precision, the path

Cannot be altered. So when the

Truth sinks in and the fodder

Isn’t enough for an empty belly,

Sorrow searches for a home,

And sometimes that means

Choosing a life of being alone.

𝒱𝑒𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒 𝒦𝑜𝒸𝓈𝒾𝓈

Join the Conversation

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.