BLOOD
my chest ripped out
my intestine and bone fall,
my ribs slinking from their regularly swung position
nothing keeps together as my insides collapse,
and pour
my hands redden as i push and prod
push and prod my sludge back together,
but shoving and touching
are useless,
and messy
there is no undoing when you’re ripped out like this
there is no stitch,
no staple, or zipper
to re-contain this terminal blood loss
so what can you do?
with blood
and marrow on your hands?
with wound,
and muck, and mess?
for starters, i breath
i breath in the morning air,
and while yes, cold, and startling
my ribs no longer constrain my lungs
so they fill up with the most exuberant morning air
that fit and fill between them
and when i let go
i fill them again
second, i walk
sure, i leave footprints behind me
red, stampy footprints, that advertise my presence
my dirt, heaping presence
but they are behind me
so i don’t look back, even though they are they are messy
they are mine
i continue to walk
once i’ve walked, and i’ve breathed,
i climb
to the highest mountain
at who-knows-where peak
and who-knows-why point
i climb, nothing left inside
to weigh me down
or hold me back,
nothing in my body at risk of losing
it’s already been lost
i climb high, leaving my messy trail
of pennied misery behind me
i can’t stop to clean, or weigh, or worry
I MUST KEEP CLIMBING
MY INSIDES HAVE NOTHING ELSE TURN
NO WHERE ELSE TO GO
I MUST KEEP CLIMBING
hours, days, precipices later
i stand on the summit
and gaze out at the sky before me
the beauty of the horizon echos out below me
and finally, lastly, i see
in my final acknowledgment of all that i’ve lost,
i reach my hands inside my chest
into the amalgam of intestine, and bone,
and blood,
that was so ripped from me before
i take my red hands,
dirty and pure,
and i smack them into the ground of the summit
pressing, and marking,
and staining my place on that mountain
maybe i cry, maybe i’m still
but i wipe my stain all over, leaving NO stone unturned
EVERYONE must know that i’ve been here
EVERYONE MUST KNOW THAT I’VE BEEN HERE
THAT I’VE RIPPED AND OPENED
AND SLIT
I EMPTIED AND POURED
AND WRUNG
AND I AM NOTHING
AND I AM NOTHING
THAT BREATHED THE BREATH OF MORNING
AND WALKED A WALK OF ROADS UNSEEN
AND CLIMBED A CLIMB OF DAYS ON END
AND I AM HERE
AND I AM HERE AND MY BLOOD WILL REMAIN HERE
MY BLOOD WILL REMAIN HERE AND I WILL REMAIN
I WILL REMAIN, WHOLE
AND OPEN
AND EMPTY
AND BURNING
AND ALIVE
SO MUCH ALIVE
I AM SO MUCH ALIVE