The Hard to Breathe Days

On the hard to breathe days

there is a weight of despair

which covers everything

like a thick blanket weighted down

with lead which presses on your soul

everything lacks meaning

and you are reminded of a deep helplessness

a sense of what it was

to be a small child

ill prepared

for a world peopled with strangers

adults all so busy

deaf and blind to you

how deeply confused you were then

you didn’t really understand anything

about the way the world worked

and yet you were driven

by a childlike hope and longing for love

dashed on the rocks of the harsh reality

of others mixed up agendas

how to find the way

in the midst of all this confusion

stumbling around

too open to what hurt

not wise enough to know what you needed

until you grew enough

to learn lessons from the hurt

its seems as though

its has taken you till a long way along

in midlife to realise

where the heavy weight comes from

how to lessen it

how to choose what heals

from what hurts

for so many years it seemed

you foundered like a helpless fish

washed up on dry land

holding deep inside your cells

the memory and longing for water

your true home

writing and touching base with your soul

is what helps on these difficult days

it is what fills the emptiness you feel

when you have strayed too far from yourself

and life seems a painful mystery

too full of confusion to bear fruit

in the writing

in the being with

in the staying with

and being truthful about

what you really feel

you are returned home

and breathing a full breath

 becomes possible

again