Transparent Human

The younger poet in me 

Once wrote, 

My hardest battles aren’t fought 

With my hands 

My hardest battles 

Are a continuous 

Bickering between 

My heart and mind 

The present poet in me 

Is convinced 

There is no devil below the ground 

With a three-edged fork 

Waiting to punish me 

The hell fire is right here 

In the middle of breaths 

Held for too long 

Thoughts wrapped up 

In surviving anxiety attack 

After anxiety attack 

Breathe 

The punishment

Isn’t an endless sentence to hell

Especially when the black hole 

Is a feeling

you’re continuously trying 

To escape  

Breathe 

Most mornings my body is 

Waiting to meet my soul 

But by night time 

The cat and mouse chase 

Has my exhausted soul

Consumed 

With trying to escape my body

Breathe  

I told my mother

I wish I would reach the ache 

In me 

So I can 

Drench it in salt water 

Leave it in the core of the universe 

To dry 

But not die 

The ache makes for 

Beautiful poetry 

The ache 

Keeps me compassionate 

And fragile 

Living with ache is a taste 

Of what it feels 

Like to be alive 

I have a need to feel life 

In dark spaces 

Where I see no sign of life 

Cruel dark spaces 

Where I can’t breathe - 

I have a need to feel life 

So I write 

I write for myself 

I have a need to see 

My voice on paper 

To hear my words 

Lead me to my healing 

I write 

To touch the core of my ache 

I write 

However, sometimes I write 

So microphones 

Can transform me 

Into something an audience can 

Recognize 

The humanness 

In my pain 

Maybe poetry makes me  

A transparent human My heart and mind 

The present poet in me 

Is convinced 

There is no devil below the ground 

With a three-edged fork 

Waiting to punish me 

The hell fire is right here 

In the middle of breaths 

Held for too long 

Thoughts wrapped up 

In surviving anxiety attack 

After anxiety attack 

Breathe 

The punishment

Isn’t an endless sentence to hell

Especially when the black hole 

Is a feeling

you’re continuously trying 

To escape  

Breathe 

Most mornings my body is 

Waiting to meet my soul 

But by night time 

The cat and mouse chase 

Has my exhausted soul

Consumed 

With trying to escape my body

Breathe  

I told my mother

I wish I would reach the ache 

In me 

So I can 

Drench it in salt water 

Leave it in the core of the universe 

To dry 

But not die 

The ache makes for 

Beautiful poetry 

The ache 

Keeps me compassionate 

And fragile 

Living with ache is a taste 

Of what it feels 

Like to be alive 

I have a need to feel life 

In dark spaces 

Where I see no sign of life 

Cruel dark spaces 

Where I can’t breathe - 

I have a need to feel life 

So I write 

I write for myself 

I have a need to see 

My voice on paper 

To hear my words 

Lead me to my healing 

I write 

To touch the core of my ache 

I write 

However, sometimes I write 

So microphones 

Can transform me 

Into something an audience can 

Recognize 

The humanness 

In my pain 

Maybe poetry makes me  

A transparent human