the shadows of yesterday & the light of tomorrow

Spoiler

@Wolfi THANK YOU SO MUCH! <3 I feel a little weird that I seem only able to write about very literal things lol with nostalgia and nature imagery, since I don't think my poetry used to all be like this, but it makes me happy to know you enjoy the style.

xx. on the brink

Others seem to have a perfect faith
it comes easy to them, like riding a bike
sure, they may fall off and skin their knees
sometimes, but they can always hop back on.
for me, I feel like I’m trying to operate
a piece of complex machinery
for which I only know a handful of instructions.
Sometimes, I think I’m on the brink of getting it;
it runs the way I think it should, though
I don’t know all its workings.
But sometimes I just can’t tell if it’s working
or not. Pull this lever. Push that button.
Did it have any effect at all?
Sometimes I think I’m making up
all the feelings of my heart
because I can’t feel them every day.
I may have the faith that you will
take my broken heart and make it whole, but
will I feel it when you do? Will I know that it was
you?
I have to pretend that I am a child again,
believing in something the world says not to,
like when your father says he’ll keep holding onto
the bicycle, until you look behind and realize
he’s not. You’re riding on your own.
I have to keep believing he’s there, holding on,
though I can’t look to know
for sure.
Odds are he’s not, they say, but I have to keep
looking forward anyway, believing he is in
the wind at my back.
How does everyone else master this balance so easily?
I feel I always grapple; it is not smooth;
but sometimes, when I keep at it, I feel I’m on the brink
of a breakthrough.
The glimpses of light I see
are sometimes all that I need to keep
trying.

xxi. small beginnings

paper airplanes and boyish grins
how do I begin?

I tell myself I’m in control,
let’s take it slow;

I think the pink creeping into my cheeks
disagrees with me.

there’s a twinkle in your eye and
a spring in my step,

a smile tugging at my lips, but
I’m sure it’s just

my imagination.

xxii. nighttime talks

the sun is long gone, and so is the filter
that traps the useless thoughts from mind to mouth
and what comes out is something closer to truth
than anything we’d reasonably let out.

in the darkness, we can share our secret selves,
the ones we keep on a tight leash in the day:
they sneak through the cracks in our closed faces, but
laughs are louder, feelings bigger, when the light is far away.

some things can’t be silly when the real world is so strict;
some thoughts can’t be spoken while meeting someone’s eyes.
some smiles shine brighter in the darkness
and some friendships bloom under starry skies.

xxiii. shades of beige

I am a good listener, some say.

I listen, I absorb, I regurgitate
what I take in, without my own voice.
Where is my voice?

I won’t speak up without knowing
every possible fact:
I don’t want to make a fool of myself

Loath to express my opinion
when 50/50 you don’t agree
and I’d rather be friends, make peace.

Neutrality is a study in quiet agreement
that I learn and learn again,
holding my silence too well.

Journalism ethics say
no bumper stickers, no yard signs;
let’s stick to the facts, here.

I try to please all the parties
until I no longer know
what pleases me.

xxiv. volatile

my heart’s a bomb on a long fuse
and though your fire may have lit me up,
I’m sure to explode on you
when you least expect it.

lub-dub. lub-dub. lub-dub.
ka-boom.

better safe than sorry,
I’ll snuff you out
as if I never met you.

but it won’t be true.

xxv. stillness

let me be still as a windless night
so that your whisper reaches my ear
from 2,000 miles away.
let me lie softly on the kitchen floor
just to feel the vibrations of the refrigerator
as the city slumbers around me.
let my eyes so adjust to the dark
that every color melts and reforms
into dark indigo lines lit by moonlight.
let me be still tonight, let my brain be quiet
so I can tune my thoughts to yours,
the quietest radio frequency of all.

xxvi. out of my depth

I’m wading into waters
with fathomless depths below
and what’s beneath, I do not know.

I could see coral reefs bursting with
flocks of red and yellow fish,
sunlight shafting through the waves;

or maybe it’s all darkness and silt
and I’ll slowly lose air as I sink
deeper and deeper,
forgetting how to resurface
and my lungs turn to stone.

Best to stay on the beach, I think,
until I’m a stronger swimmer,
capable of waters choppy and calm,
arms carving through the blue-green sea
and into whatever life takes me.

But the water curls in eddies around my feet
and I let my toes sink deeper in the sand
as the waves push me slowly from the shore.

xxvii. the depths

well, that’s it. I’m up to my chest in the ocean and it’s time
to sink or swim.

when I open my mouth, will the words make it out
before the water trickles down into my lungs?

Spoiler

@RangerofIthilien thank you!!! I was kind of inspired by Meshugenah on the really short one. They do such a fantastic job of that style! Thank you so much for reading along. <3

xxviii. in mind

you are gentle, you are kind;
thoughtful, careful, smart, refined.
towards your heart my heart’s inclined
and if you held me, I wouldn’t mind
but I don’t want to see what you’ll find
in the depths of my eyes: you’ll unwind
my very soul, you see too much, and I am blind
for not so long ago I pined
for someone that I left behind.
have the stars for once aligned?
or is it just that I couldn’t have declined?
I’m scared you’ll see my heart defined,
that you’ll see yourself, you’re on my mind,
for you are gentle, you are kind.

Spoiler

@Meshugenah thank you!! <3 Always appreciate you reading. And I'm glad you saw that comment, I forgot to actually tag you in it!

xxix. moon

the fingernail moon beckons
like an opening door, stage left.
i step off my balcony and into the night.
i am an owl, i am an angel.
the radio waves all reflect off of me,
humming in russian and french,
all my particles shimmering in the air,
glittering like the stars.
i am the stars, all their atoms recombined,
i am their light, i am the night.
my hands caress the rooftops,
my feet kick out over the ocean.
i am the woman in the moon
and the moon is in me.

xxx. into the flames

tip over the candle of nostalgia and set the past
ablaze; let it raze –
a good prairie fire engenders
growth and I’m ready
to shoot up, strong and green.