sophie's shack

When I was young

I woke up one day

To see all of my toys

Shoved in a box

Written upon it

In permanent marker

Was a warning

“Keep everything inside”

So I kept it all in

And I played with my toys

Within these tiny cardboard walls

That confined them

But one day I thought

What if I didn’t?

And I yanked just one out

And played with it right on the floor

Nobody saw

But from that day on

I played with my toys, outside of their box

Hidden from those who could stop me

We can’t play with toys forever, though

And as I got older

That box never moved from its place

But a new one arose

This time filled with my clothes

With a new warning, now painted on

“This is all that you get”

It said in black scrawls

“And only take out what you wear”

So I wore the same clothes

Week in and week out

Until the gears turned in my head once again

I went out and shopped

For just a few pairs

Of pants and a couple nice shirts

I changed in my car

Put on new jewelry

And hid it all when I got home

These clothes stayed in my drawers

And when I left the house

It was always in clothes from the box

Now, I’ve grown up

And I’m flying the coop

And ripping my things from their boxes

They’re no longer stuck

And neither am I

The only boxes I need are for packing

But as I make my claim

In a world that’s my own

I notice a strange mesh around me

I scratch and I claw

But I just can’t escape

And I walk around covered in cardboard

This world called to me

So violently free

But now that I’ve entered its grasp

The box has returned

As big as can be

And wrapped me within its walls

I look back at pictures and messages from friends

And all of it serves to remind me

That while I’m alone

And this world can be kind

And everyone has good intentions

The box that I’m in just won’t go

And written upon it

Is a simple instruction

That tells me naught but who I am

“You are what we say

And you remain as you are

Your life and your meaning is ours”

So I stand in my room

Covered by the box

And I wonder, just who should I be?

But then I sit down

With my head in my hands

And I whisper, “That choice has been made.”

i close my eyes

and ghosts swirl around in my head

wisps of love

a hint of a hug

and a warmth, still foreign to the touch

i try to hold on to the slumber

praying that it’s somehow real

but these ghosts in my head

are unkind to me

and they all walk away like the rest

i open my eyes

and i’m met with the cold

and unfeeling gaze of the void

a summer so bleak and eternally long

it might as well last 15 years

where will i be when the end comes for me?

surrounded by warmth never known?

or will i be sat

on my bed chasing ghosts

with no one to wish me goodbye?

There was a point in my life

When a veil kept me safe

And hid all my boils from the world

Cysts on my face

Oozing green and black sludge

Pouring out over my skin

Spots on my back

Flashing pink, blue, and grey

Aching whenever I moved

The creaks in my bones

Each step that I took

Unlikely to hold me for long

All of my pains

And all of my lies

Were hidden beneath just one veil

I had everything

Such joy in my life

As long as I stayed underneath

But try as I might

I couldn’t hold on

Or hold myself back from the world

I grabbed onto a knife

And brought it up high

And cut the veil right at the top

And for a moment

I was free

But the world slipped away

And all of my joys

Would take a step back

And flee as they watched

The green and the black

The boils on my skin

Were too much to bear

And all of my loves

Would scatter and flee

Leaving my body

To torment just me

The veil has been cut

And I can’t bring it back

I’m left with the scars on my face

And though many boils

Have faded and healed

I still feel the pain that they left

The sun on my face

Is shining no more

As though my sweet veil is still here

i don’t really like the term “found family”

not because of what it represents

but because of what it assumes

that family is a given

automatic

that it never wavers

even when your voice,

your mind,

and your posture do

as you sit in a room

with people who, at one point,

knew your name.

that family is relational

that those links cannot break

and that blood supersedes all

even when it’s yours

dripping onto the ground

as they thrust a dagger through your heart

and twist.

that the bar is set permanently

that love can be qualified

that new bonds,

new breaths of life,

can never measure up

to the tree the apple fell from

even as its leaves wither

its branches rot

and its roots dry up.

i haven’t found my family

but i know that when i do

i will not add an asterisk

because family is trust

love

compassion

respect

laughter

sadness

anger

understanding

all wrapped up and running

much deeper than my veins.

As my stocking is filled

And my heart is emptied

I look up at the sky at this moment of joy

And watch as the stars fade away

My glassy eyes have lost their spark

And the bags beneath them grow

And the season has lost its reason

Some divine act of cruelty

Or nasty device of fate

Has sapped me of my will

And robbed me of my spirit

There is a malignant love in the air

A condition upon the cheer

A set of rules to follow

Lest I walk astray 

From the path that was set for me

The church is filled with candles

And as the baby lays in his manger

I mourn

As his beginning

Means little but my end.

The wicks go out

And the families soon follow

Until I am left all alone

This place was not made for me

This home is not mine

And I’m left to look nowhere but up once again

A star shines brightly

And upon it, I make but one request

The only gift 

That could touch my heart

Tell me, little star

Is there a world for me?

It's late

And I’m alone at a table

Snapping LEGO bricks together

While the pieces inside me come apart

I’m building a flower

A poinsettia, in fact

With its dark outer petals 

Giving way to a sweet, bright core

This table was once my home

Where I built and built

Placated and peaceful

Now, I’ve become but a guest

And my mind is full of noise

My work is finished

The flower stays intact

But everything else

That I’ve worked so hard to build

Has crumbled in an instant

My outer petals have gone dark

And I wake up with dread

And look inside myself

To see a rotting, festering, core

As these unfriendly walls

Eat away at me

On days like this, I wonder

If I fell into pieces

What would they rebuild me as?

a poem by me

My feet crunch on the newly landed snow

Surrounded by trees,

Almost building-like in their stature

But not quite.

The sun no longer sparkles on the fallen flakes of ice

Instead, the sky looms grey above me

And the wind nips at my cheeks

Back inside, everyone is cracking smiles

Their Christmas safe and sound under the tree

And their hearts as full 

As their stockings

Me, my smile is cracking

And under the tree lies only broken promises

And long dead names.

I look behind me as I walk

And I notice the disruption I’ve caused

The snow has caved in around my feet

And it will never be the same 

As it used to be

Before I changed everything.

I look ahead,

Ignoring what I’ve left in my wake

The sun shines ever so faintly

But it’s dimmer than it ever was

I remember many winters 

Vibrant, joyful

I wonder where that joy went

Is it trapped in an apartment

Just two hours away

But so far out of reach?

Is it locked in the closet

Behind the layers and layers

Of clothes I left behind?

Is it in my heart

Shoved in a drawer

Too big to fit in my suitcase?

I don’t know

But I know it’s not here.

I walk into the office

Purse hanging off my shoulder

Tucked under the hood of my big,

Heavy coat.

I walk up to the receptionist.

“I have an appointment,”

I mutter, 

In a voice I’m scared to make heard.

“What’s your name?”

Though the room is all but empty,

Every eye within it descends upon me.

I swallow, and I say them.

“And which of those would you prefer?”

I beg and I plead to myself, 

Make it easy.

I make it hard, 

And I sit down.

I’ve made myself

The elephant in the room

With the voice

Of a mouse.

Each shuddering sentence

Is a plea for invisibility

But the tremors in my speech

Can be heard around the world

And all I have to say

Falls upon the ears 

Of those I’ve made deaf.

I find myself caught

Between the world I left behind

And the one I can’t quite reach

And each passing smile

Or affirmation

Is just another piece of confetti

For the pity parade

So as I sign my forms,

And my tinny name is called,

I stand as tall as an elephant

And as quiet as a mouse.

I stare at the sign on the door

“You are welcome here,” it says

So after some time

Of anxiety, indecision

I believe it

And I walk in

The room goes silent.

Where there was once chatter and laughter

There are stares

Whispers

And an evident desire for me to leave

So I do

I step outside

Breathe

Cry

And reach into my bag

Inside is my armour

That I thought I could do away with

It served its time

And I’m ready to shed its weight

But

I suppose it’s not my time

I wrap myself in the skinsuit

Cold, clammy, and a bit too small

I feel a shudder come on, but I push it back

I must not show weakness

I yank the fleshy mask over my face

It’s tight, and expressionless

But it has to do

I step back in

Everyone knows it’s me

But “me” has gone back to normal.

Conversations continue,

And the elephant in the room is successfully avoided

But the noise is so harsh

Names, phrases, memories

All pierce my ears and stab my chest

Each sentence I hear is like a thousand firecrackers

Going off within my head

It’s so loud

And I lose myself

A few hours pass

I get what I came for

And I bolt up

I have to leave, I announce

Perplexed stares around the room tell me everything I need to hear

As I walk outside, I look back at that sign

“You are welcome here.”

Who’s you?

The chain around my neck tugs and tugs,

Choking me,

Reducing my voice to a hoarse,

Putrid

Whisper.

On the other end lies a man,

Rotting and festering,

A year gone.

He had a name, 

And it rings throughout my head.

With each passing day

That I drag this cadaver around

I bear the burdens he left behind

While the people around me scream,

Horrified by his mutilated body.

“So young,” they say,

Peering straight through me

Into his eyes, now and forever lifeless.

I mourn this man I loved,

Who fought so hard to protect me

Even when I rejected him.

It’s sickening, really.

Now, when I need protection the most,

I turn around and see him,

Flies buzzing in and out of his nostrils,

Jaw agape, teeth rotting

And I weep.

On my best days, he lightens up

And the chain loosens. 

People see me, they wave, 

And I am at peace. 

But the funeral is never-ending,

And its melodies haunt my ears.

Cries of those he hurt when he walked away,

Shouts of those who would accuse me of murder,

The ringing in my head when the chain 

Gets tighter and tighter.

The dirge goes on each day, and the church bells ring 

For the corpse upon a chain,

And not the girl 

On the other end.

you’d think they’d be happy

to see me flying so high

closer to heaven than ever before

it’s nice, isn’t it? to see a loved one soar

singing in a sweet falsetto

dancing around the clouds

wind flowing around them,

carrying them higher and higher

it makes me proud

and so, so glad

to see that in my people

it’s a swelling of joy only paralleled 

by the feeling i get

when it happens to me

but there’s no hate like their love

and as my wings pull me up on jetstreams

almost high enough that the ground stops existing

they’re pierced by whirring crosses, 

sharp as daggers,

as if those wings were never anything but

paper-mache.

i still have strength, of course

the crosses burn up in the sun

but my wings take longer to heal

and each time i plunge

from my cover in the clouds

they sting,

and the ground comes into focus,

and i hear their voices

i’m sick, apparently

fake wings can’t fly, they say 

to the girl that they've lost in the clouds

i was kinder on the ground,

locked to the land

with nowhere to hide from their love

i’m perfectly made

just sick and depressed

and my cage was so much safer anyway.

there will come a day that i plunge no longer,

and require no ground to stand upon

but until that sunrise

their jeers will pierce my falsetto,

and ask me to sing

in my real voice.

i’m so tired of living through history

they call these unprecedented times

but it’s all a facade

everything so easily foreseen

yet so pitifully resisted

vestiges of mussolini’s pride, hitler’s wrath

echo throughout the atrium

i can’t be the only one who hears them

and still the retorts are mute

i only ever had concepts of a plan

vague notions of a future

but now

even those feel like sand

slipping through my fingers

onto the beach 

to be swept away by the tide

as the nuclear shadows stare on in horror

and the cycle begins anew

i think to myself

will there be generations beyond?

will there be history books to warn them?

will we die

before we ever got a chance to live?

A ship lays adrift on the waves

Tossed about by the sea

Uncertain, transient, but controlling

Like an undulating iron maiden

The hull cracks and rots,

Unkempt and uncared for

Unnoticed by the passing vessels

Unknown by the ports

How did it get here?

One day, though

The waves push 

Just hard enough to nudge the tired ship

Towards the boatyard

Away from their grasp

The repairs come slowly

Plank by plank

But the ship can wait

It’s waited this long already

At the dock

The ship hears the roar of the waves

“We’re losing you,”

They bellow

Can you lose what was never found?