Homebound

- The Seasons Of Grief: Chapter I - Poem IV -

Cold December, I’ve been lost since late spring,

Packing boxes, while the memories still sing

My visions blurred as I traced the frames of old walls,

Trying to hold on to what crumbles and falls

Every step, I creak, the floor says naught,

The windows crackle with pane-writhing whispers,

To the halls, I ran through fraught

And I was holding an old breath,

Staring at a decrepit fence,

Releasing my trauma in the Lethe

I don’t think that I’m sure,

But the feeling burns pure,

That my pain would never find a cure

Blazing June, I’ve forgotten who I was before,

Fading numbers of when I was one through four

Past me, flying through the blades of evergreen grass,

Laughter and joy adorned the shingles, just enough to last

Every door closed, I weep, the knobs mauled,

The holes behind broken frames, hollow and still,

They still hold the memories of when I crawled

And I was releasing the old breath,

Barefoot in the ice of twenty-one,

Catching a lookalike of Seth

I know it’s not sure,

But the feeling wanes pure,

That my pain could find a cure

What’s the cost of all the things I’ll lose?

The marks of my loss, the shades of my youth

Can’t I just hit pause? Can’t I retract time and stop it outright?

Through the hottest and frostiest storms, I’d fight,

Just to have time to hold on to it longer, the ship with no sight

Then I was shipwrecked,

I’ll remember a dog named Lilly

I think of death,

And how it’ll come for my family

In the cracks of choice,

To dream of better relatability

I dreamed of you,

One being to love me,

But all of it was real enough,

I knew that one day I’d finally be free

To keep me whole,

The pieces I’ll keep so they can all see,

And I swear,

The damaged roots that grew from the new tree,

It’s still there

And I was breathing in a new breath,

Warmed in the mountain cabin,

Content with what I have left

I know that I am sure,

That the feeling was always pure,

And my pain found a cure