Stillness is Movement
A poem for broken hearts
--
“There’ll be happiness after you
But there was happiness because of you
Both of these things can be true
There is happiness
Leave it all behind
And there is happiness”
.TSwift.
The thing is,
I feel like I’m dying.
Not like
I’m going to die, or like
I don’t want to live, or like
I want to hurt myself.
Like
my heart is going to burst out of my chest, like
the anxiety of transition
and change
and loss will
propel it forward
while I stand rooted
trying desperately to move my feet.
I never thought it would be like this.
I never thought it would be.
I never thought.
Still, here it is,
here we are
feeling our way through this strange downsizing
that gives us room to grow.
The thing is,
I feel like I’m drowning.
Not like
I can’t breathe, or like
I’m trapped, or like
water is the thing crushing in on me.
Like
the oxygen in my lungs
is suddenly not enough
like there’s something
besides air I need.
Ethereal intangible
desperation swirls between my ribs,
sweeping gales of longing
disconnected from conscious wants
or needs.
The thing is,
I feel like something is missing, but
everything feels just right, but
everything feels tilted.
