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

Still not old enough to know better. I root around and explore ideas in philosophy, spirituality, poetry, Judeo-Christian Worldview, family, relationships, and art. Often torn between encouragement & self-directed chastisement, I may sputter, but I still keep trying to move forward.

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