Master, Free Your Slaves
It’s eerily black and cold down here.
It echoes when I walk.
Like a tall dark stairway of broken dreams
I'll shatter if I fall.
Anger drips from a hidden beam.
Like clock-work.
…Drip.Drop.Drip…
Feeling the emptiness
like a hole in my pocket…
where change is lost
and resentment kept.
Still holding on
I wonder why,
everything I touch
burns itself alive.
These fiery feelings
I’ve buried inside
their flames reach higher
the more I wish they'd die.
Begging to seek light and fly
I push them deeper
Down to lie.
“To sleep,” I say
“Leave me in peace.”
They say to me...
We cannot leave
unless we are set free.
Free us from the chains
That bind us to this space.
Please, Master
free your slaves.
Show yourself some grace.
We only hold you down, you know
You feel it’s hard to breathe.
With fire racing through your veins
This damage can’t be freed.
Just let us go,
we’ve done the work.
You owe us a reprieve.
Please Master,
free your slaves
The loss of us,
you shall not grieve.
This crazy thought...Self-Love
You never chased me down,
not once.
Yet still, I'll fight for you.
Fighting for something
you don't even want.
I wonder why I’m still blue.
I’ll never be enough you know,
but nobody else would do.
It’s time to turn this love for you
into something new.
It’s time for me to take a chance
and set my own love free.
Redirect it
to the one you left here.
Give myself a chance to breathe.
Give my own soul what I need.
Waiting for you is proving to be
a tireless endeavor, indeed.
I’ve never thought to love myself,
only let my heart continue to bleed.
Prelude.
Rainy days are the best and the worst. As innocent raindrops streak my solitary window pane, so do my relentless tears fall upon deafened ears. I question if this torrent will ever release its grip so that the sun will shine again. Darkened skies love to linger, she always used to say. That, among many other sayings burned upon my young mind forever. A young mind, already growing old.
Forever. That’s a long time to have to miss her. I wonder if she feels the same way about me? My young mind knows I’ll never see her again. All the hushed whispers around me tell me so.
Pt. 1
It was just after 5 o’clock when we pulled up into our mile long snake of a driveway. I could hear the gravel crunch beneath the old pick-up truck’s tires, like steppin’ on a pile of spilt cereal on the faded, cracked linoleum. Daddy was always yelling for somebody to clean that shit up! That somebody was me, and he didn't just mean the cereal. That went for his messes too, whatever he managed to make ‘em with. Daddy was always makin’ messes. I’ve come to think I was one of ‘em, just sittin’ there starin’ out that truck window, covered in road dust. Like my heart. A kid just along for the ride, never really sure where it was going or if I even belonged there anymore. At least not without her.
We screeched to a halt just in front of my only refuge. At least I had that. Its figure loomed before me in the golden light of the settling sun, light streaming through its imperfections. Passing right through my own. The barn was over 90 years old was what ‘ol Mr Philips told me. Philips been workin’ for my daddy as long as I been knee high to a grasshopper. Nother one of them things she used to say right there. Philips was around more than my daddy was too. Nobody talks about it much anymore, but I guess old Mr. Philips wife, (I think her name was Ellen or Eileen, or something along them lines), ran off over forty some years ago. Took the two kids and the dog with her too. Disappeared just like that. Just like her. I heard Daddy say one time it was just as well. An old cow like that, he’d said, was better off grazing on somebody else’s pasture. Whatever that meant. I bet Mr. Philips still missed her. Forever is a long time to have to miss someone, I should know.
My old worn out shit-kickers hit the dirt and carried me into the stalls. I slammed the door shut and never looked back. Time for chores. Daddy spun out of the driveway and headed back into town. I was on my own. Just as well. He'd be back later and wouldn't even bother lookin' for me anyways.
I could see the dust floating in the chilly autumn air. It swirled around me, calling me home. The familiar aroma of hay and worn leather grazed my nose and made it tingle. She snorted. “Hey Daisy girl, whatcha been doin?” That's what I said to her every evenin’. At least I had her. And thank God she had me.
Free.
I am. Everything you will never be because of course, you are not me. I am like nothing you have ever seen, because of course, nothing quite like me has ever been. In existence just to breath and feel and live. Each moment belongs only to me, the same as yours to you. Each moment of my life lasts only that, and then must be set free as a gift from me to my past. My future is nothing but a dream, living well ahead of its time. I am. Living in the moment, just this one. Free.