moody sunday

There must be something wrong with me
‘Cause I kind of like the bruises
I gave it all and I could have given so much more
Tricking time, tricking memories, tricking stupors…
And I pretend you’re writing your name
Over aching limbs and long distances
Flooding me with the spaces between
Trials and errors, trials and errors…
And I pretend I can defeat
Long hours, needles and pills
And I just fall behind, no need to keep up
And I pretend I can breathe

There must be something wrong with me
I can’t trick I can’t defeat
I can’t connect I can’t breathe
I can’t pretend I can trust
I just remember you asked me to

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Santa Apolónia*

Oblivion is a lure
Warm and painted in azure
But I want you to trace
The reminiscences of a face
Of stone, crying, so still
Adulterous to your will

Gray is as cold as ice
You’ve burnt it twice
On the morning ships were gone
And the world was forever dawn

*Wrote this in 2001 about saying goodbye to someone I thought I was never going to see again. As I’m trying to say goodbye in my mind to someone who probably doesn’t even remember me anymore, as I’m trying to say goodbye to 2014, and as I’m trying to say goodbye to a version of me that keeps beating herself up for not living up to people’s ideas of what I should be like, this poem came back to me, by heart. It still makes sense to me after all these years…

Not Waving but Drowning

I once printed and handed out this poem to my therapist, because I was so desperate from being incessantly misunderstood and misdiagnosed. It’s one of my favorites still.

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he’s dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning. 

Stevie Smith