Write Out Loud – Day 3

Cindy is one of the talented producers of Spilt Milk, and a really strong writer to boot. My dogs absolutely love her. This poem was originally several pages long, and I gave her the challenge of condensing it into five short stanzas – the cuts were hard but the end result was definitely worth it. This poem makes me feel trapped in the same way I often feel in my own head, and that’s a hard thing to

My View

i.

Every day, I find myself on a roof.
Some days, the buildings are taller,
and some, shorter.
But the distance down always
seems the same.
There are people
coming near,
pushing me back
until I feel the edge beneath my feet.

ii.

Communication,
the very thing that holds society together,
tears me apart.
What should be improvisation
is a constant calculation
and I’m tired of keeping up.
It feels like everyone
but me
has the formula.

iii.

I make fire from a single flame,
and tend to drown in a fleeting rain.
I run inside
and seek shelter.
But the inside rarely comforts;
it pushes me out,
until water fills my lungs again.

iv.

Sometimes,
I’d rather be cold
than forge an artificial fire
as many others do.
Their flickering flames draw you to a warmth
that is not there.
Sometimes,
I try desperately to start a spark.
The forest is caught aflame
and my fire destroys everything in its path.

v.

High atop the buildings,
my view is great.
When I find myself upon that roof,
I will jump,
fall,
and hope to land softly.