Like falling on rocks.

Slippery, wet rocks, smelling of slimy seaweed
& broken barnacles
with the water swirling around them
& coming in and going out
too quickly.

Sharp scratchy places that make you bleed,

So that you wonder what you're doing out there

& you remember clearly seeing how beautiful it looked from the quiet beach

& how you thought it would be better to stand out there closer to those waves.

This is how we learn not to go out to every hard place that sparkles in the sun.

The fear of death will do that for you.

...

I am sure I have believed that I'm most afraid of people.

But, perhaps, people don't scare me as much as they should.

Not enough for me not do go out into the hard sparkly places.

I can't feel my heart.

I can't feel it beating.

I feel my legs, heavy and hurting from running.

I feel my eyes, burning from staying open and crying too many tears.

I feel my breath coming in hard and going out easily.  Like it doesn't want to come in at all, only leave.

I feel my throat, tight, not letting my voice out.  Not letting me scream.

My whole body hurts.  By this I know that I am not dead. 

But my heart is still.

I hear nothing.  No heartbeat.

I must have lost it.  While I was fighting my deamons.  While I wasn't paying attention.

Why can't I remember the moment?

The last thing I remember of it, is the last thing I heard it say before it went quiet.  It said:

Let go.

...

But I didn't let go, did I?
I think I don't understand yet
how that works,
what that means. 
& now its gone
& I don't feel it
beating & I don't know
where it is.

...

One day, I will wake up with my heart back in my chest

& the darkness will be over & my heart
will shine again &

be new & old at the same time

& I will wonder about this strange dream,
without it.

 
from 'Broken' in My Heart Dead

Why do I do it?

Why must I love?  Can I not stop?
I must stop.

running.
Stop running to
and away.
Stop running.

Stop.

Walk.

Sing.

Eat.

Pray.

Breathe,
again.

....

Love,
​again.

​Da hören die Lieder auf,
das Herz kann dann nicht mehr singen.
 
Da hört sekundenweise
alles auf
außer dass was weh tut.
 
Es tut weh
im Herzen.
 
Wie geht das?  Wie kann’s passieren
dass ein Mensch sich so verliert daß
die Herzen anderer Menschen ihm
egal sind?
 
Ich hab' schon längst gelernt
‚Scheiß drauf!‘
zu sagen.
 
Ich bin schließlich so
aufgewachsen;
mit der Angst,
mit dem Verbot,
mit dem Tot in der Nähe.
 
und es ist schon damals nie egal gewesen, aber
ich hab' gelernt
so zu tun als ob.
 
Mit der Angst genauso zu leben wie ohne.  Kein
Unterscheid,
damit du nicht aufhörst.
 
Alles so wie vorher.
So, als gäbe es keinen Tot
                              Keinen Hass
                                             Keine Angst.
 
Weil wenn du dein Herz
verlierst,
Wenn du aufhörst zu lieben,
hast du von vorn herein verloren und bist
schon tot.
 
Und so bist du am gefährlichsten
(für die Anderen),
weil die Toten ist das egal wie es denn Lebenden geht.
 
So wie die ohne Herz.
 
Du darfst dein Herz nicht verlieren.
Es ist das Wichstigste was du hast.
 
Auch für die Anderen.

I couldn't love you because of my fear.

Everything I ever learned growing up taught me 
that I couldn't love the children of other Gods.

Other gods were wrong &
Dangerous.

And so I feared you, even as my heart accepted you.

And then I lost you in my fear:  drowned
you out.
Buried you 
under prejudice and preconception,
lit the match &
ran.

Too close. 

​I didn't run far enough & 
like Lot's wife; I turned to look, &
there you were,
burning & 
it was my fault.

& I'm sorry.

& I know I can't make it better by saying it.

But I want to say it, 'cause it makes me human again &
you not burning &
me not turned to salt.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

You betrayed me.

I trusted you and you
told me
he would love
me,
but
he didn't.

He just held me.

And that was enough for you, but
not for me.

I needed more. 

I needed the promise.

I needed the hope and the future and
the honor.

And he didn't honor me.  He held me
and then he let me go.  Left.
Just left.  Not saying he was leaving.  He
just stopped coming.

Left me.

You poor silly heart!

You really believed it, didn't you?
You believed he would love me.
You did.

He didn't.

What do we do now, my heart?
You don't really know much, do you?
What do I do now with what you tell me?
Trust you?  Laugh at you?  Ignore you?

---

I must heal you now first because you are broken.

Heal you.

We'll do that first. 
Then there will be nothing left to do.

You speak.

You always have spoken.

I didn't know that.

I used to hear you,
and listen,
and think that it was
someone
else
speaking.

(Maybe God!)

I never recognized
my own voice.

How is that possible?

When I hear you now,
close & old,

I know
you.  Now I do:

My oldest friend,
My only own heart.

I still miss you incredibly.

I miss your face close to mine,
feeling your eyebrows
& your cheek bones
& your chin
with
my
nose.

I miss breathing
close to your  skin
& filling up
on the smell
of you.

I miss your breath,
a bit smoky,
the sound of your voice;
how it vibrated
in me
when we lay
talking together.

…

Why are you (still) the only person I want to talk to
when I become quiet?  Or even, 
not talk to.  Just sit with.
Quietly
Not talking.

from 'You' in You, Me & the others​

I miss the ground under my feet belonging
to me.  I remember it carrying me.  I remember
​not doubting that
it would.

I miss the air in my lungs being mine
to keep and to
let go of.  
In and out.
Mine.

I miss the sun-shinings smelting in the top
layers of my skin and staying there
because they
belonged.

The sun was a part of my skin then.  I was part of the
light, part of the earth, part of the air.

Nothing left me that wasn't mine first.
​
It came to me because I owned it.  The
freedom.  The keys to the
Kingdom.

I own nothing now.  I am poorer than ever I
thought possible.

Only what is already in me is mine.

The earth gives me nothing.
The sun doesn't come.
The air is foreign.

I am very far from home.