This is a Poem about a Broken Heart

One night, some time ago, I was lying on my bed, listening to Little Black Submarines by The Black Keys.
Then, around the time Dan sings “Oh, can it be, the voices calling me…”,
the first verse and chorus of this hymn played in my head
and then, I wrote this poem:

This is a song about the panic that sets in when your dreams end.
This is needing someone to heal you.
Discovering the Ideal You.
This is a song about walking in the dark.
This is a song about a spark.
This is listening to your heart
beat.
Beating about the bush.
This is shoving your hand all up & through the mush.
This is feeling more pin than cushion.
Wandering around in the thick open air
wondering what if, where are, when
is something gonna give?

This is my life unfolding in a windstorm.
Boldly rowing through the cold until it seems warm.
This is: not turning my back,
or wiping my lips on another page of my almanac.
This is getting a grip.
Coming to terms with whatever reality is called “Today”.
This is a thread run down to its very last fray.
This is praying for a witness –
for that eyes wide open close-knit-ness.
This is me, cleaning up the hot mess I’ve made of things.

This is a song about two peas in apology.
This is what is wrong. This is singing along to the pod logic.
This is odd. Smile and nod.
This is rods & cones, and moans & fond looks.
Learning to feel.
Learning to feel alright.
Learning to feel.
Alright.
Amazing.

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