The Early Autumn

I am tired
A tired, pale thing
Daily weary from
Absolving myself in embers,
Coal-scrubbed,
De-boned,
Immaterial from wants and
Bleached into oblivion.
I am mere memory
Dropping like rain on windows,
The one who loses,
A silent bird.

The leaves flutter and I am them,
Dead but still connected to the tree;
A breeze of substance and I’d give up the ghost —
Out, spirit, —
To fall untimely into unsatisfying piles,
The early autumn,
When even leaves are silent underfoot,

As I have always been.

© K Paige Medina, 17 June 2019

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In It

Once I am in it

It is an ocean

And I am in it

Glowing, unboned, light unfiltered,

An alien weightless in the deep.

 

But before I am in it

I must drown

And it is a violence I

Visit upon myself;

I am my own current,

A rip tide pulling

Unraveling threads – these yarns –

A life unfinished

That

Stitch me together.

There is no peace in surrender

When to surrender means

Lungs full of water

Cracking

Into the sea shot through by light

 

I’m not saving myself

I am only

In it.

 

©K Paige Medina | 17 May 2018

How Does Empathy Feel?

Do you ever suddenly realize that
beneath the shields our brains project over us,
there is skin,
and beneath that skin is blood,
and muscle, and then, deeper still is
bone, and then beneath that is
a heart?
A wet heart, a red heart,
beating and mute?

Do you ever feel suddenly human,
that impermanence and flaw,
when you read the words of another person and find
yourself in them
and it makes your knees ache a little
and your elbows,
(maybe that’s really where we’re connected after all,
in the bony fragile places,
in the hot wet tissues,
in the tendons and nerve endings –
maybe that’s where a human lives,

and dies)
?

©K Paige Medina | 06 March 2018