Brave

I woke up to the door 
cracked open just enough to see
the darkness peering through
watching my shallow breaths
with the curiosity of a child
(Hot Stoves and Penny Tongues)

Opened tired eyes to another text
about how she came into consciousness
with a belt around her neck
tied to the curtain rod-
her body ready for the final sway,
trying to jump
before her mind could catch up,
But with a trembling voice
laced in reluctance and uncertainty,
she woke her husband 

and instead of the belt, she
just choked on her tears and
whimpered every time his grip on her waist
fell slack, as if she needed him to tether her here
as if she’d be snared 
back into the impenetrable oilslick clutches
blotting out the traces of light 
that faintly radiated from an upturned face.
(Fractured Psyches and Crumbling Hearts) 

So what do you say?
when that pain has been so familiar,
those nightmares have transcended 
into your own reality
and you yourself have needed 
the heavy weight of
warm arms to keep you grounded.

What do you say? 
when your soul would shatter at the loss of her -
yet you’ve been there, 
squinting at that very noose
entwined around your pulsing knuckles
in twilight hours,
knots and fiber
scraping at the dull pulse of your carotid.

You place more value on her blood 
than the tongue pressed between teeth
that fervently tells her she is
Beautiful and Worthy and Brave. 
That tongue 
that cannot turn those words inward
to nurture the seedling trying to take root 
in a barren sternum, tender and bruised.

Beautiful Worthy and Brave
Even and Especially at 3am
when only the Lovers and the Lost
converse in hushed tones 
and the pearls of their eyes can barely be seen
unless you are close enough to
see the grains of sleep sand 
pooling into miniscule beaches amongst
long lashes leaning in the sea breeze -
near enough to breathe
the salt off their skin,
expanses of sinew 
yielding and offering up 
re-baptism, recovery, forgiveness.