When I Couldn‘t Write

 Calvin noticed something while reading my manuscript. From 8/8/09 to 12/20/10, I didn’t write a single poem. My heart must have been hurting so deeply that I couldn’t even find words for poetry.

I stopped writing on 8/8/09, just four months before my mom passed away, and I didn’t write again until 12/20/10—a year and six days after she was gone. I remember hurting, aching. Screaming inside. Fighting demons no one else could see. Here’s what I wrote:

My heart hurts, my feet are numb.

My hand is tired, my mind is blank.

I would like to run away.

I need to smile through this rage.

Try to love myself for a change.

I never hated another human being,

But I promise I hate me.

The world is sleeping; they forgot me.

I lie awake with thoughts of what could be.

I am numb, but I still feel.

I wish I didn’t—this can’t be real.

I am cold, always alone.

I feel my heart turn to stone.

I want sunshine, no more rain.

I want to smile, no more pain.

I suffocate in this skin,

All I want is to fit in.

Phew. That makes my heart so sad. I remember writing this poem. I was crying. I needed my mom. I needed someone—anyone—to hear me, to tell me everything was going to be okay.

Looking back now, from where I am, reading this poem takes my breath away. It pulls me back to that time, to those feelings. The insomnia. I was completely broken. I never want to feel that way again.