(Notes on this poem: Sometimes when I walk into Walmart (anyplace really) I will look around at all the people and I wonder who they are… I will stand there and wonder about their lives. Then I will slowly start to float a little. Everything around me turns into some mild acid trip. I am unsure as to whether this is all happening. It is all surreal. But at the same time I am enjoying the feeling of weightlessness. Then it turns on me. I start to feel dizzy, nauseated, destressed. I try to use some Mindfulness Base Stress Reduction techniques to stay more solid, but it is too late. It doesn’t work. I hope no one notices???
I believe that somehow those of us who have been through great suffering are connected one to the other. I will see someone. We will look into each other’s eyes. The soul opens up, and I witness a deep pain and suffering. They experience the same emotive power. There is a sense that we are brothers or sisters. There is a feeling of sacredness. We smile, nod, and go our own ways. Nothing is said, but our souls have spoken truth… “I know you brother/sister. I love you. We have both been to those horror places. And we are still here! We made it! We survived! We have been torn and twisted, yet ever growing into something beautiful and grace-filled.”
I wrote this poem in a Trauma/Dissociation Psych Ward in New Orleans. The pictures above show the original poem written around the picture. The other drawing is also from my time in the hospital.
And you know what??? This poem is also about just feeling that you don’t fit in. And that is hard. That can be the hardest thing of all. I know! But try to find someone who understands, who can understand what you are feeling, who knows you and loves you.
I hope this poem means something to you. If it does I am both sorry and thankful. Sorry, because of where you have come from… Thankful, because we are brothers or sisters and there is some kind of “knowing” that links us together. As always, I hope you will make a comment, share your story, jump into the conversation.
Blessings to you Sisters and Brothers. I do love you… John)
I stand here
A puzzle piece
In the wrong box
A stranger in a strange land
Yes, I am from that far country
A land for those who have been stretched to thin transparencies
I am from that place called “Abyss”
I am from that place where 2+2 does not equal 4
A place where dark pools reflect the condition of broken souls
And we, the citizens of this distant land…
We somehow recognize each other–
An aura? The eyes?
We stumble upon each other with greeting…
“Indeed, I am from the Pit”
“I too am from Abyss”
Dark strangers from that land of severity and sadness
wondering if it will ever make sense
We turn together
looking out over the horizon
gazing at this place called Life
We stand here
in a silent apprehensive prayer… always wondering
“is all this really happening?”