And though I couldn’t see,
repetition of a vision
came to me in a dream
How the mind can make you guess!
Traded losses for a new mess
and if I could’ve turned my head
when I spat out the window, ah! --
Would I have felt the wind?
Though we kept driving on
in the car towards the reservoir, my
mind conjured up the Bridge:
each side looked like the other one
I couldn’t tell where I had come from!
but it made no difference --
getting through meant
returning, back to you
Healing is a battle in the between the approaches of obsessive preservation and the brittle separation from all pleasures doubling as the source of our fear and pain so, sometimes, propelling through these minor destructions kind of feels like
a mistake
So, I began to walk
and soon discovered
I had recovered
steps I’d already made
and the bridge let me advance
in the offering of a new chance
and should I feel fucked up when I
still expect?
When I let it in?
It scares me to begin,
but if I don’t trust again,
could I ever face the wind?