AWAKENED

Your words
like both fire and ice
lapped like a tongue of razors
at my already broken heart.
My will lay sleeping
like a dormant beast
until you pressed
the wrong nerve.
Now I am awake and determined.
Driven by your words
of elemental power and pain,
I am up and running
incomplete until I am reconciled
with my pieces
and the goal and desire of my heart.

FAITH, STILL.

Choked by my reality,
I have been unresponsive
to the words that give me spirit.
Will is a thriving ingredient
in the the recipe of my essence,
and my will has died.
Gone through enough
for more than one lifetime,
having fought as hard as
an entire army,
I laid here,
swollen and choked
unable to inhale nor exhale.
In a state of unending duress,
I withdrew into myself
cradling my broken heart
that refused to acknowledge
its own existence
let alone that of anything else
and was repulsed by the reality
of its actuality.
I endured my limbotic
state of being.
At last, my breath has arrived
blooming into a relieving exhale.
And I realize that
with each inhale and exhale
continuously,
I am, in essence
persevering.
As long as that is my reality
I have faith, still.

ALL THE SAME

I find both comfort
and terror in remembering
the echoes of the steps once trodden
and the words thus whispered from the ground
and path on which i stepped,
which communicate to me a cacophony of realities
that make me who i am in this
very moment.
That in itself is
the most important fact.
For she will lead me
into who I will be,
yet she is the concoction
of who I have been.
Remembering brings me both
comfort and terror all the same.