Falling asleep… at 18 months.

At some time during my day I am out of energy.
I can’t put on the show and smile or be nice

That energy… that strength goes out. It always gives out.

And I can’t check out. So I push through for everyone else.
Every time I think I can do it or that I can’t go on…
Somehow I am still here and still alive. 

I’m carrying something all day, every day

And even though you can’t see it… it is always there.

It may not be heavy like it was… or have I gotten used to the weight?
And I may not seem sad all the time… but the grief is always there.
Broken bits and pieces and fissures that run to my core. 

And when am I not in pain? Have I gotten used to that as well? 
And I think of my son often, but I do not cry. 

I smile and I put my best face on for you… and for them… and for him…

But… yeah, I sigh.

There are moments that pull me back… and moments where it hits for no reason.
And moments where I find myself lost and staring… but seeing nothing. 

I don’t know where I have gone any more than I know where he gone.
There is something about walking and eating and breathing… but it isn’t enough.
And all the connections that hold you through… and hold me tightly.

I speak, but there is no sound. And I write no words. 

I sleep and I do not dream.

And there are these images of pain and torment… and flashes of metal and flesh

That I see while waking

And the songs I hear in the silence… the constant tapping of a foot and hand

And it is quiet. 

And like a fire with no light, no heat… I think of sadness
So I come to the end of my day and find that edge between sleep and not sleep…

Between the heat of the day making my neck hot and sticky… and the coolness of the sheets

And I hear the sadness in my soul… thinking of a laugh from long ago… and a mischievous smile.

And I can cry, or sleep… or think about the blank canvas downstairs…
And never a scene of disturbing images, of the pain of a tortured mind
And never abstract…

Howling through the dreamless black…
I think of dramatic skies and bright colors

Closing my eyes

And holding my arms out… empty
And I drift off…

The work of the Lord is this: Believe in He who God has sent.


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