NUMB

Happy Poetry Day! 😉

Do you know the feeling

Of loneliness?

No, not that.

People think it’s quietness,

Tears,

Pathetic.

But that’s not true.

It’s this

Loudness

That you can never run away from.

It makes you

Curl up against a wall,

Hands holding your knees against your chest,

As if it’s the only thing keeping you together.

It’s watching out a window

And realizing that

Even though there are a billion people in the world

Not a single one cares if you’re there.

Cares if you’re not there.

No.

True loneliness is numbing.

Loud.

It’s in the pit of your stomach.

Even though you are surrounded by people

At school

At work

It wouldn’t make any difference if you weren’t there.

It’s numbing.

I should know.

Amanda

I originally published a different poem here but then realized I published that poem a few weeks ago, so I made this one up off the top of my head.

 

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SONG

The wind whipped my hair.

The car flew down a hill;

I closed my eyes.

The driver flipped the radio on:

It was a SONG–

A song my mom wouldn’t approve of.

I wriggled in my seat,

The teenagers giggled.

“What, you don’t like it?”

I shook my head.

Of course I liked it.

It spoke to my heart.

It spiked through my blood

Like a beautiful poison

Made just for me.

The notes and rhythm moved my limbs

In a way nothing else ever had.

I was one with the music.

“Yes,” I replied.

“I like it.”

And I lost a bit of myself

That day.

Years later

A car pulls into the driveway.

I climb in

And that SONG

Is playing again.

I’ve changed so much.

I no longer feel guilty

Tapping my foot to the beat,

Convulsing in my seat,

Mouthing the words.

They speak to me

Like no other words can.

The music is a language,

My language,

A language I always knew

I would know someday.

And I can’t help but think

How different I am now

And wonder

If it’s good

Or if it’s bad.

Amanda

POWERFUL

Questions are powerful.

I remember a long time ago,
When the world was just beginning to collapse into darkness,
I loved a boy
And the boy loved me.
My brother once asked him,
“When you see my sister when you’re
Old and kissed by Time
Maybe in the grocery store
Or a parking lot,
After living two lives separately–
What will you say?”
My cheeks grabbed buckets of embarrassment,
And the boy’s eyes widened.

Impressions are powerful.

We’ve lived two separate lives.
Our tales were never woven together
By the Maker of Fabrics.
We didn’t see each other for years
Upon years
Upon years.
But we’d made lasting impressions
On one another.
He softened my edges,
Made me care for those around me;
Revived the optimistic spirit
That had been torn
So raggedly.
I’d changed his sense of humor,
Challenged him to grow up a little;
Made him realize his goals were worth fighting for.
We carried those hints of each other
For the rest of our lives.
We molded each other
Into that which our future spouses
Fell in love with.

Reunions are powerful.

I remembered what my brother had said,
Never forgot how the boy’s eyes widened
And my own cheeks charred the atmosphere around them.
Weeks, months, year passed.
And I saw the boy
Now Old and kissed by Time
In the grocery store,
After living two lives separately–
Except he wasn’t a boy anymore.
All that echoed in my ears was
My brother asking him,
“What will you say?”
I stared at him,
He stared at me.
So much had changed,
But so much more had stayed the same.
He licked his peeling lips.
I fixed a tendril of my white hair.
He opened his mouth.
I held my shopping cart close.
His words were the balm
To my aching chest.
His eyes swelled.
Tears fled both our eyes.
We were home.
“Hi, Daisy.”

Moments are powerful.

The flowers were fresh
And white.
I was the last one there.
The boy who dared me to try,
Dared me to believe in shares of hope–
He was gone.
But although our threads
Were never sewn together all the way
We’d been tangled together
At last
For the end.
We picked up right where we’d left off;
It was as if nothing had ever changed.
I’d never left him,
He’d never left me.
There was never any regret.
Our omniscient Tailor had pulled us apart
Because He knew best.
But when the light pulled me into Heaven–
As I saw the face of my King–
It was the boy who helped greet me.
I forgot the earth
And sorrow
And regrets
As glory
And the boy who taught me how to be
Daisy
All laid before me
In powerful glory.

God is powerful.