On the forearm

But I know I will prevail,

Deep on, inside and beyond, I know

I will.

With my candles on, my music playing,

my soften light, a poem about to be written,

all stained in blood of my scars half ripped.

Future will surely be mean,

And I’ll fall and raise for the rail,

I’ll cringe and binge, and sit still,

And I’ll pick up the phone but not make the call,

And ask myself if this is it all all over again.

Or will I not.

Will I jump again? Steel will, not ready,

But doing it anyways.

Will I close the door and remain inside

Arrive to silence and feel at home,

Or pet a dog, as denied as child,

And make peace with my inner mind,

Do as she says, trust my gut,

Kiss myself on the forearm.

March for the flag of restful nights,

Wake up call with the sun rise,

To go beyond, to belong again,

To talk with God, not to ask your name.