#isitapoem

Contentment feels strange

after a lifetime of anxiety and fear and struggle

Contentment feels like boredom

Contentment feels like space that I don’t know what to do with

Contentment feels like silence that I can’t stand to hear

Contentment feels itchy

or stiff like a new pair of shoes that offers real arch support after wearing ballet flats for years

Contentment feels unsafe

Contentment feels like that moment before something else happens

And that’s when my skies went black.

I think I’m losing my way.
I can’t remember when it happened.
Those overhead clouds opened up and I began to drown.
I fought, with what strength I could muster, to stay above the waves.
The current is too strong. 
I can’t breathe. I can’t see. 
I’m drowning. It’s too late.
All I can do is close my eyes and, again, say goodbye.

And all I can see now is your face.

I know I lost my way.
I know that no one is looking for me here.
But the waves are now receding.
I can’t tell where I am, but I know if I move the pain will resume. 
I lay and await for the waves to overcome me again.
Awaiting the final end I so gravely wish for.

And now I feel someone beside me.

I think you found me.
I can’t tell for sure.
The light is shining brightly again and I refuse to open my eyes, but my skin accepts the warmth.
A tender touch removing the shards of glass from my fragile flesh.
A gentle voice caressing my mind back to coherence. 
I can feel the bricks lifting from my chest one by one and somewhere I know that only someone with your strength could remove them. 
I can breathe.

And suddenly the waves come back.

I think you want me lost.
The water is up to my chest and the waves are licking my chin as they crash into me. 
I take a final breath, sink in and await the end. 
And wait. 
And wait.

I finally open my eyes.

I think you brought me back.
My world looks so different with the sun shining, I can’t really tell.
I realize I’m not under the waves but that you have me afloat. 
I’m clothed in bandages, covering the wounds.
You have my hand, tighter than I’m used to but tight enough to make me feel secure. 
At times I’m apprehensive and fight to squirm away.
But you refuse to let me flee.

And finally, I’m alive.