On the news, the Pope turns

another bird into a bishop. A waste of song,

if you ask me. Still, as much as I hate

the holy, I can’t help but want to serve

as the portal for your transcendence,

my stomach your altar, my bloody

fingers your cupped wine. I wish

I could love you without the worship.

Why do I want to be your church,

your prayer? You could burn

all my toed pews and I’d just stand there,

flightless but fearless, an unevolved

emperor penguin. Blame

my upbringing—these zealous compulsions,

this easy surrender. Maybe I should be

angrier at how, when you say

I love you, I genuflect,

how all the fun facts I know

live in trinities. One: making bread

into body is called transubstantiation.

Two: according to hymns,

God can raise you up

on eagle’s wings. Three:

even at his most powerful,

Francis only has one lung.

This means nothing much, except

that we might be able to

watch him whimper

when the day of judgment comes—

it will be harder for him to run.

lover, what is winter

if not a hemorrhaging,

a wet supercut of all the ways

i’ve placed my body in these rooms,

inchworming over positions each hour,

coffee still smoking, showerhead

still dripping. forwards & backwards,

my life looks the same. did you know

in videogames, mirrors rarely render

reflections? it’s so much work to reshine

each surface. it’s a miracle to see yourself

in the screen. i’m saying (god permitting)

winter was easier to build

than spring. less rainy

opportunities to see ourselves puddling,

less breakthrough. but we suffer past it

every time. (god permitting) i believe in

our abilities to name things,

plants particularly. the imagination

in milk thistle—how it demands

the respect of cream without

ever softening. so we’ll rename

winter, call it a fat rest.

alex, is it okay if I personify the buzzes of your buttons during jeopardy / into little honeybees? / I promise this fun fact will be fast / but alex, did you know that they recognize / our faces? cobbling our lips and nose to a whole / I swear that’s all I had to share / though I imagine they gather around you now, a whole hurricane / drinking you in, looping tooth and lash / what’s it called when you stare at a picture for so long / it imprints on your eyelids? / I know you know this illusion / I’ve seen it with that silhouette of jesus / forgive me / I’m not equating god and bees / I just don’t know the words / but I promise to learn / alex, what is grief / but an optical blur / not a question / but an answer

I am a professional suicidal thinker. I have 45 years of experience in this thinking.

I don’t take depression lightly.

I UNDERSTAND (my heart broke when I was 2) it never healed, only suffered, more pain, more heartache, and more suffering every time I offered my heart! No one wanted it. Not even the people who said they were my "parents".

I’ve learned of a new word called Empath I believe most of us who have suicide thoughts are empaths and we don’t know it.

How do you “help” someone who has given up? Why do you want to “help” someone who has given up? Why do we CARE? Why does it matter? Why is it our place to tell someone they MUST stay here in HELL? It IS NOT.

However, it IS our place to SHOW LOVE!!!

Love is the treasure we seek

and when no one is

showing love

the world looks so bleak

the empaths

see no future

and just want to sleep.

Maybe instead of judging

why someone doesn’t want to be here

listen and remind them

who they are.

Why they are

needed.

~LOVE~

We get so lost in our families we stop being who we are created to be and feel so lost, alone, and mistreated. We see only the grim future. There is only misery, which we are creating with our own negative thinking and we don’t even know it.

Another new phrase. ”Law of Attraction”. The more I have learned and applied this Law the more REAL it is. More real than man’s “law of gravity”!

I am a Reiki Master Healer and I understand the ”heart of the matter”. I understand about the broken heart and how it truly affects us in all ways. People who have given up, believe there isn’t anything left.

“This is as good as it gets”

remind them

"Why they were chosen to walk the earth".

When a person KNOWS self-love they will see and understand the bigger picture and the suicide thoughts go away.

How does one find LOVE? Self-Love? Reiki helps with that. Reiki heals the chakras, specifically the heart chakra.

When we are “Well Within” we are healthy. This means when your chakras are in balance and you are in alignment.

The reason we have negative thoughts is because our chakras are out of alignment.

Chakra healing is an everyday routine just like exercise and eating healthy.

Another new word I learned recently, is the opposite word of an empath, narcissist, a narcissist will use suicide as a form of control and manipulation. How do you know who is what? Listen to their words. Words matter.

We just need to show love again, a person will not be cured of suicide thoughts just from reading any of our words. This is a process, and yes it is like peeling back layers of an onion.

The important thing is to start SHOWING the world LOVE again.

Athena

I am a cat person. Dog people bother me, with their overabundant enthusiasm, the urgent need to constantly be socializing. There are a few I can generally bear... but overall entirely too tiring to be worth the effort. I prefer cat people, those independent enough to function without constantly seeking your command or approval, who recognize your space without invading. Cat people might be thought of as aloof, although I think a better term would be reserved. Saved for people they like, those they know are worth the effort and bring out the kitten in them. People they can be playful with, who acknowledge the need for solitude sometimes. Dog people, so driven by interaction, don't always understand why we pull away or find some people overwhelming.

Or were you talking about people who want to own a cat versus people who want to own a dog? Being allergic to cats, I lean sharply towards the canine end of the spectrum. Being less allergic to dogs, though, I make a case for the reptiles. The lizards whose bright-eyed exploration of their terrarium and ferocious moth-hunts bring so much joy. The corn snakes who love sitting on your shoulders, content to just be company. The turtles who always look slightly confused, but willing to go along with it.

Hey. I know a speech isn’t what you want to hear now, that you want the whipping of the wind, the exhilaration of the fall, the sharpness before nothingness. You’re tired. I’m tired too. Why don’t we sit down for now, at the edge of oblivion, two tired souls?

Thank you for listening to me. Not many have listened to you recently have they? I can see it in your posture. You’re waiting for me to dismiss you, to tell you your words mean nothing. I'm not another demon, so if you wish, speak, release the water drowning you inside. Tonight, I am the one who listens.

.

.

.

I’m sorry about the pain you’ve been through, all the people who’ve turned a blind eye to your suffering. Sure, everyone suffers, but kindness should still be first and foremost.

You understand, with your heart on your sleeve. You’ve helped so many, had them rip that heart off and shred it as thanks once your purpose was fulfilled. How many times have you stood in my place, talking to someone in yours? You must be so very tired.

There’s so much more to life you know? You don’t have to solve everyone’s problems. I don’t know if it is a relief or an insult to who you are, this next sentence, but you are not responsible for everyone’s problems. It’s crazy, isn’t it? You know this, I know this. And yet.

Here, have this flower. I plucked it from this ledge we sit on, watching the stars which watch us back. Do you think there’s a god up there that watches over us? I do. Paradoxically, I also believe we can make our own decisions regardless of what God intended for us. Neither of us must be the therapist. We are allowed a little selfishness sometimes.

Why am I doing this? Maybe its selfishness, not wanting to see a life I could have saved gone on the wind, to witness your departure. You've felt this selfishness once, before you became tired. Maybe your selfishness is wanting to leave, and my selfishness is wanting you to stay.

Here, I hold out my hand. I ask that you take my hand, come with me, and maybe we can go get some nice warm food. I think we both deserve to indulge, to enjoy something with a simplicity we’ve since lost.

I know you're scared of the uncertainty of life and friendship, that I will rip your heart to shreds yet again. I cannot promise you I won't. Such is mankind. But as with this cliff, everything is uncertain. Risks are a part of life. I'm a risk. This situation is a risk. You are a risk. Yet I hold out my hand, risking the possibility that you won't take mine.

Will you take my hand, let me bring you somewhere where the light is warm and the aroma of food is in the air, with friendly chatter and comfortable seats?

Dear One,

A time will come when you find yourself in the moment sniffing roses. You might accidently prick your finger as you linger longingly into its smell. Your finger may bleed and on cue you stick it into your mouth, sucking on the liquid, allowing the enzymes in your saliva to naturally heal that small wound. The pain of that moment was worth it though. You never smelled anything quite so raw and beautiful.

A time will come when your feet get stuck in wet sand as the ocean’s current buries you ankle deep on site. The great ancient waters force you to stand your ground as your heart lifts up into a sunset. Despite the chill, you’ll be glad to be held in between two places at once; land and sea.

A time will come when you will contemplate life and if living is worth it. And let me tell you dear one, how can life be life if it didn’t give you the opportunity to contemplate it? What is life if you don’t also understand or strive to perceive death?

You see dear one, death is part of life. Life can not be appreciated if you cannot also appreciate death. Just because life is painful right now, does not mean it is your time to leave life.

Maybe it’s simply time to honor death. Maybe when times get hard and unbearable, honor those who’ve passed before you. Ask your ancestors for their guidance. The entity of their energy still exists. Ask those who are already dead in the flesh to lovingly hold you and remind you of your light. Remember we were all once star dust.

At this time, dear one, you matter. Please know you are loved and you are safe. This life can be very hard sometimes, but please know you are not alone. You’ve never been alone. Ancestral love is always there. Love is here. In these words. In this letter.

I love you dear one. Please know love has no judgement. Nor know no limits. LOVE is ALWAYS HERE when you need it.

Love,

The Lioness of the Goddess

Say my ancestors were discovered.

Make me memorize it, 

Put it on a test. 

Tell me being mixed is sexy, you forget

it was first forced breeding. 

Teach me high art is naked white women, 

Notice I don’t look like them?

Persist I am lucky to be so tan. 

Call it a glow up. You’re selling a people. 

Is this rebranding?

Say my language is alluring. 

Learn a few words to use at a bar.

Progressive?

Habibi, mami, ebony princess. I find it racist, 

you call it misreading. 

Assume I’m after money, or status, or a green card.

You ask where I was born. Where I went to school.

Probe for an answer. 

Didn’t expect me to one up you? Now I’m disappointing? 

Treat me like an accessory,

Although this is my life; I’m not pretending.

Paraphrase a culture, you’re so good at it.

Wrap me in sticky rice, 

because you’ve made me your happy ending. 

#feminist #poem #feministpoetry #spilledink #bipoc #intersectional #minority #feminism #racism #poetry #culture #poetrybywomen #woman #slantrhyme #youngpoet