Poetry Month Celebration Day 19

I tell myself this helps. I tell myself getting it out, getting it down, and making art out of it (as if calling it “art” makes it so) helps to heal. I wonder some times, but I will still try. I think I have something to offer, but I don’t know.

Minimum Safe Distance

There is a place
high in the mountains I could go
where you would never have to see me
never see
never hear
never know

I could explode then
a cataclysmic event of tears and sobs
and just feel what I feel every moment
ripped apart
ripped away
ripped open

Safe and secluded in a cave
I could curl up and let it happen
keeping everyone safe from the fall out
no worries
no damage
no judgement

Would someone hear the howling on high
would they wonder what strange beast lives above
would they come with salve or a cage
with mercy
with outrage
with salvation

I have hoped for hope for so long
been lifted up just to be cast down again
and the cave in the mountains tempts ever more
so quiet
so secure
so final

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