A Poem From One A.M

Welcome to a new month readers! This is going to be a pretty low-effort post — I’ve been a little under the weather and it’s really messed with the creative process. And if by that I mean it’s made me stay up until 5 AM, pass out until 7 PM and only stay awake long enough to digest medication, then that’s my business. Never mind that, though. I did manage to put pen to paper (or rather, fingertip to key) and wrote a poem about my experience with dissociation. That said, feel free to interpret it in any way you connect to it! They are just words at the end of the day.

I hope you all enjoy! Although, one last thing before you continue on to the poem — I’m pretty positive that you’re aware of the horrors currently happening in Palestine, and if you’re not, I heavily encourage you to do the research. Here, here and here are a few websites that guide you on ways to help out. As always, stay safe readers.

1:02 AM by Avi-Mae Shaw

I pass my fingers through the leaves

Particles ghosting particles like a wind

That sweeps by and goes on

Without notice.

The tree stands study, haughty and defiant;

Tall and towering, teasing with leaves

Higher than I could touch — than I could ghost by.

Fingers on the rotting wood, calloused and sharp

Stabbing through me to never land a hit.

Fingers curl to fists and pound through, never feeling.

Never landing.

“Let me feel!” The body shouts, flailing fists,

Bloody fists,

Through the wood.

Winds blow calm around them,

Fingers on leaves

Breezes passing to land somewhere else.

“When can I feel.”

The body prays, a whisper to the wood;

To the leaves unreachable at the peak of it

Held up by stronger branches.

Ones less dilapidated than the trunk.

“Let me touch the leaves.”

The body curses.

Sinks to the ground in despair,

Toeing up the garden’s dirt.

Getting its blood sprinkled around the tree’s roots.