Poetry: A Lot.
Photo by Melissa Groves-Christ
My heart is an ocean
My brain is a tidal wave
My life is storm
Hurricanes blow through
Waterspouts form
Tsunamis eat my plans
Whirlpools define my worth
So when you joke and laugh and say
‘My friend, you are a lot,’
I invite you to come to my shore
Take a seat and watch.
Because you’ll never quite know
It’s impossible to see
The depths of the emotions
Running through me
They’re chaotic
All-consuming
They swallow my sleep
They pull my attention out to sea
But they’re still part of me
Come swim in the Bay
Play chicken in the shallows
Dive into the waves
Sink into the shadows
Meet the watery remnants of the lives that I’ve built
Then scuttled and burned and surrendered to filth
They lay quiet, but broken
There for evermore
But I remember them still
They’re waiting for rebirth.
One day, maybe you’ll meet them
When a storm passes through
They’ll rise to the surface
They’ll come to meet you.
And you’ll stand amazed, maybe frightened too
At all the worlds I’ve spun
Then fed to the earth
I’m not easy
I’m not “chill.”
I don’t know how anyone can be.
Do you not feel the ocean in you
Churning, so hungry?
Because on days like these,
That’s all I can feel.
I try to pull up, but the waters hold me still.
And I don’t always mind
They’re friends of mine too
There’s beauty and light
Just as there’s garbage and filth.
But for once it would be nice
If someone else could know
How far down into the trench
My heart really goes
How my chest aches for air
How my belly twist with fear
How hurt and joy and uncertainty linger
And mix in perfect swirls
Yes, I am a lot.
I contain entire seas.
I struggle, nearly drown,
Then rise back to meet
A world that cannot seem to grasp
That cannot seem to see
All of these pieces
They’re a part of me.
Not a side effect of illness
Not something pills can fix.
This is beauty and light
This is horror and shrieks
So as I sit here today
Trying to organize the flow
And knowing you’re mad
You’re disappointed
You’re tired
You need a break from me,
My heart is gray
The waves choppy behind my eyes
The current tugs my belly,
The hurricane rages in my mind.
But without this struggle
And without the stacked odds,
Without the SOS and without the fog,
I would not be me
Photo by Melissa Groves-Christ
