Within

Have you ever sat
With that pen in your hand
And that pad on your lap
And just sat...
As though there was nothing to be said
As though there weren't
A million different things
Whirling and tumbling around
Inside
And here I sit
Now just as always
Knowing that having missed
That brief, half-second moment of thought
It has all been lost
I know that if I truly wanted to
I could pick any topic
Anything at all
And just write
The options are limitless
The ideas are all there
I suppose
But every time I sit to write
It's gone
Oh yes, the rhythm and rhyme
Are all there
With ease, I could pen anything
Just ask! And I'll give
But I cannot ask of myself
Not truly
I have lost the ability to look
Within myself
And see
For as soon as I begin to peer
Into those deep, dark
And truly endless
Crevices
I am lost
I am blind
I am numb
I simply don't know what I am
What I become
But it's as though each
Of those endless ideas
Endless possibilities
Pushes away the last
Before I can grasp it
I reach
But not fast enough
Or perhaps too fast
Or not at all
And then it's gone
As soon as I try to harness it
To understand it
To see it
To peer...
It's as though that fleeting thought
Was never there at all
As though the very essence
Of who I am
Just disappears
As though I'm losing myself
As though I already have
As though...
And what does that even mean?
Is it just as though I've lost myself
Or have I actually been lost?
Does lost mean
That I have wandered off
Somewhere
And can still come back
Or that whatever is lost
Is gone
Forever
So what truly is meaning
Is it fact
Or just perception
And if I keep on asking questions
Will I ever be satisfied
Because as soon as one is spoken
Along comes another
Ideas, thoughts, perceptions, questions
All the same
Too many, too fast
To answer or even to ask
And are there really enough words to say
What I'm trying to express
In a way that will give it
Meaning

And so this is why I do not write
At least, not anymore
It used to be that all I could do
Was write
Used to be that the only way
To express myself
Was to write
Or cry
And even then
I couldn't cry on someone's shoulder
No lack of shoulders I suppose
Must have been some lack
Within myself
And so I wrote

So often I lay there
Or sat there
Wherever there was
With a pen in my hand
And a pad on my lap
And did more than just stare
It didn't have to be perfect
To be perfect
Nothing was too little
Or too big
Nothing was too hard
Or too easy
I just wrote
I poured myself
Yes, my darkest, deepest crevices
Onto that paper
Again and again
I looked, I searched, I peered
And made myself see
What was really there
And even if I couldn't share this
With anyone
At least someone saw it
At least I wrote

But now, instead
I criticize my work
Before it is even written
Let alone read
I still have those depths to peer into
But lack of clarity
Has made them deeper
Darker
Impenetrable
And I have become so used to sharing
Out loud
That in the absence
Of my dearest confidant
I find myself without
Not a hearing ear
Or a supporting shoulder
But simply the strength I need
To share
And I know
As I have always known
And will always know
How much I need you
Without you
I am incomplete
Lost
Perhaps afraid
Unsure

And so I write again
Though I know you cannot yet hear
Not for a long time yet
And though that time is passing
And is perhaps not so long after all
It must still pass
And each second
Is, not easier, but longer
As though time makes time itself
Grow longer
I wish that, somehow, I could tell you
If only there was a way for you to know
For me to say out loud
All of this
Without breaking that vow
Of silence
Without failing this test
And perhaps I am afraid
That if I do not speak now
By the time later comes
It will be lost
And I will no longer be able
To share
All that I wish to share
Need to share
With you

And so I write as I used to
Or try, at least
But to me...
This not poetry
This is just words
Poetry has rhyme
Poetry has rhythm
This...this is just confusing
Puddles of words slapped together
Without a common thread to bind them
Repetition
Where simplicity is needed
Empty spaces
Where thoughts should be
Patched together from bits of fraying ends
And swatches of misplaced color
Rough and scanty
Incomplete and superfluous
Both at once
Too much and too little at the same time
Just shallow words
To hide the depths
Sounding just the way I feel
With wind blowing through the gaps
Created by indifference
Resulting from confusion
And left unmended
Simply because
I don't know how

It is this confusion
This repetitious rambling
That drives me crazy
That pains me right down to the
Unseen depths
The ones I can no longer look at
For fear of getting lost
I'm in this storm-tossed sea
And wind-swept clouds
Without an anchor
Without a lifeline
Feeling as though I've lost my compass
Or just don't know how to use it
Or something
Whatever the reason
I feel lost
I have a sail by which to move
I am motivated towards a future goal
And that
Is my one lifeline
It will not break
It will not sway
But the winds will still blow
I am still buffeted by waves
And tossed about by so many pressures
Most of which come from within
From those deep crevices
Into which
I cannot peer
And though I will never let go
Of that lifeline
And though I know where it points
Where it will lead
What calm and healing it will bring
Though I can picture where I am going
I cannot see
Where I am now
Or what is right in front of me

As long as I hold on
I cannot be lost
Will not lose myself
Completely
And despite the fact that I am afraid
And disoriented
Right now
Despite that I cannot always see myself
Or hear my own thoughts
Or feel my own feelings
Despite your absence beside me
I will hold on
As long as I must
Until the day
When we can be together again
Complete each other again
And I promise
To hold on to me
For you