Tag Archives: pain

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Soon

Categories: Art, Poems, Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

photo credit: Heather Lenz

photo by: Heather Lenz

Soon

Who are you to tell me
what I need or who I am? Point out each
supposed flaw

When I am a tree, still & quiet–
barely alive among your wreckage.

You pick my fruit when I feel warm &
leave me barren. It is always winter
when you sit on your throne in my shade

like a winning god who fools everyone. &
you devour all that is left of me, even the sapling,
that once grew beside me.

The lightning in your eyes severs my
branches, those that once reached
toward numerous stars & gathered
windswept rain.

I’ve become rooted in your
corroded soil. I am full of rust now,
stories & wisdom too painful to name.

You go about your days feeding
off the last of me. Soon
I will burn to the ground.

Soon.

& few will know or understand
what started that fire. They will
shake their heads & say

“A damn shame about that odd tree
that stood for so many years”

Then they will probably shake your hand
give their condolences,
& walk away.

-Heather Lenz
Feb. 2016

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Eclipse

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , , ,

 

Untitled“It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.”
-Frederick Douglass

Eclipse

His bruised eye
like the moon gone dark
on a night when nothing
sees the truth except the
heart inside of him, like a
cobwebbed corner of secrets.

During an eclipse, the light
slowly returns. But not for him,
nor his eye that will yellow like
the sun & fade back into an
apparently normal day.

When I saw him near the
railroad track, so small & fragile,
standing in the grass, his lower
lip hanging down like a cloud
somewhere near oblivious adults,
I drew in a breath of shock,
touched his cheek & asked what
happened.

He looked up at me with big round
eyes that cried out: The moonlight
is never returning.

-Heather Lenz

October 2015

This poem was published in Issue 1 of BAD ACID LABS INC.

 

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Awakening

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , , ,

Unsplash / Pixabay

Awakening

You said something about flowers.
Apparently a man stood in your way.

There was a desk with no paper or pen.
You wore a lavender sweater & prayed
for light.

At night, terror pulled you
from sleep. A shadow standing over you.
A rosary swung from a bird’s beak.

You crawled out your window, hoping
to catch dust from the last falling star.
You breathed in the scent of Moonflower
from your vision.

Everything became holy & scattered.

Your hands trembled, petals crushed
in your palms.

At dawn, you found yourself
sitting in a Redwood forest,
Imprints of faerie wings
on your arms.

Eyes becoming one
with a nearby stream…

~Heather Lenz

This poem was published in Issue 1 of BAD ACID LABORATORIES INC.

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Twisted

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Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , ,

No help provided, the sick things uninvited,

the way to save my mother or call upon my brother.

Panic attack at 4 AM, and I can no longer feel who I am.

Clouds rush in like demons to laugh, and exhaustion is the aftermath.

Here is your past, take it at will, and be condemned for taking a pill- that stops the thoughts from racing so long, as you stand there and smoke in your bra & thong.

Can’t leave the house, someone might hurt you- after all your own dad did desert you.

Be afraid of the will of the doubt- strangle it all and muffle your shout.

You’re not worth saving- and not many care- so go to sleep and cuddle the air.

Dead is dead and this life is a race- for the fastest car or the prettiest face.

A joke to be told and Jesus weeps- that he actually hung on the cross for us creeps.

What good is art without an eye, what good are these lines when you sit there and die…

~Heather Lenz

 

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