THOMAS JACKSON CREATIVE

-anniversary-

it’s not easy to dream,
on a pillow drenched,
by the storm inside of me,
as scenes and memories,
form a supercut,

like the racing of pain,
back through my veins,
as i do the most difficult task,
one year after trauma,
i remember.

droplets of galaxy,
fall from the ceiling,
into my dry eyes,
i see from above,
the view of the sky,
i remember how it felt to come so close,
to the end,
so close, that i could taste the salt spray,
of the dark ocean,
i felt was my inevitability,
the willingness to succumb,
to the darkness which,
tore at me.

each day i breathe i am haunted by the frozen ground behind me,
in the shadow cast by my ever-expanding memory,
a night i tried to forget,
but at every corner,
in every conflict,
in every relapse,
in every new memory,
on every breath,
i will taste the blood in my mouth,
from the injury,
which, even after healing,
still remains with residual bleeding.

but i am not defined by a buried memory,
one i pieced as well as i could,
then shelved,
one that i unearth to learn from,
whenever i feel my path,
is leading,
there,
i’m scared,
of feeling alone enough,
of feeling not enough,
to fall beyond return,
but that will not happen,
because i am celebrating today,
my eyes slowly open,
on a new day,
surrounded by life,
surrounded by love,
still figuring out the great problem,
of the life i did not take away,
and i feel comfort in this,
being the place i stay.

I am here.

my eyes open, 
on a morning,
three-hundred and sixty-five days later,
and i find it’s hard to breathe,
i’m overwhelmed by unnamed emotion,
i’m scared of possibility,
but i’m here to see it all,
happy anniversary.