Braving Through – a poem

Braving Through

By Jane Tawel

January 30, 2020

 

 

Toddling, really,

Since it all began, at least if not more.

I fall-down daily,

Toppling over,

 in a mess

 amongst the pots and pans,

 or dandelions and weeds.

 

And I don’t get back up,

But lie crumpled where I fell

until I suck each bloody finger;

Or lick a tissue I find in a linty pocket,

winding-up flimsy paper,

into a pointy little wet periscope,

And dab my skinned knees until the tissue runs red.

I leave a bit of skin in every day’s hard pavement.

 

Today I wake and don’t want to.

I feel it might all be over,

and I can’t get my head working right and my body won’t unwind to stand.

I tell myself all the things I’ve always told myself

 about God and life and love.

And I can’t seem to believe in any of it, long enough to turn the bathroom light on.

 

So, I sit in the dark

on porcelain as cold as a tomb,

running out of stored tears and excuses,

until I am dry.

 I unwind fragile paper,

meant only for the garbage pile, after serving me;

rolling it out like a banner on the battlements,

declaring war on this new day.

 

Then I rise and stumble forth.

Braving through.

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“Papers” by Ganamex is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0

Published by

Jane Tawel

"I'm Nobody, who are you? Are you nobody too?" In the words of that famous "nobody", Emily Dickinson, I am a nobody, committed to the idea that words matter and that expressed creativity, no matter how crumb-y gives us hope. And as Dickinson wrote, hope will keep us safe and warm together. I am thankful to have a home in this blog for my thoughts and thankful for any who sit awhile in this blog home, seeking crumbs on their own journeys. May you stay safe and warm and full of hope.

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