The trees

When I was making space for all the anguish, I walked
So much so that the tendons 
In my right foot became inflamed. 
The doctors didn’t know what was causing it. And I didn’t say “well it’s all the fucking cancer going around isn’t it?” 
Because well, that wouldn’t make sense to them would it. 
I kept walking through the pain
I carried it. A certain part of me needed it. And thought it irreparable. 
“Where else can I put it all?” 
When there are no words for a feeling
No answers to the problem
No solving to be done. 

One by one on each looping journey 
I visit the trees that speak back to me most.
The tall one, that looks like lungs.
Bare in the winter. 
Breaches the defences I so haphazardly 
Built around the disbelief 
That one, two, three you all fall 
And I can’t save you. 
One, my heart cracks 
Two, it shatters completely 
Three, who, what, where 
Even am I anymore? 
It doesn’t fucking matter

(It doesn’t fucking matter) 

None of the work I’ve done can fix this.
(But maybe that’s the work)
(And maybe this shit is just shit) 

One by one I visit the trees 
And they unwrap my heart
A salve. A safety. 
Like I can not unfurl elsewhere 
And with each step closer to home
I re-furl the bandage around myself 
A mess , barely contained
And yet impossible to truly reach anyway.
A protection.

But I’ve awoken from a coma. 
And you’re really gone. 
You’re so gone, and now here I am
Realising that I’m not. 
I’m here and I feel it all. 
Though not all the time 
And not all at once 

Because that would be 
Impossible? Surely? 

So I’m awake.
Drip feeding grief 
I relearn to do normal things with it as 
A companion. 

You were never here before as much as you are
Now that you’re gone.