My tongue is in my hand…

Work out the kinks in the words I can’t say

Posted on: January 13, 2009

I wrote this poem,” Debris” and it came back to me today, in a moment I was sitting in my car, and I was thinking this, today, is what “Debris” is about.

I’ve been off all day, making wrong turns in familiar areas, mind clouded and slow, irritated by music ( literally turned the radio on and off 4 times in 10 seconds), talking to myself in silence, laughing at the banana that slid across my passenger seat and then center console and onto my floor, then trying to get it and almost running off the highway, driving the wrong direction of my destination, wanting to just sit somewhere and as soon as I get there, wanting to leave or not even get out of my car, confused, tired, flat, crying while driving, ordering a biscuit when I wanted coffee (then eating the biscuit and later getting a coffee), spending money I didn’t want to spend (on the  food and coffee, nothing crazy),

wanting to just curl up in a ball, head on someone’s lap, hands in my hair while they saw everything and loved me just the same telling me everything is okay, needing nothing from me but that I sit with them while they hold me,

feeling trapped and defeated, sifting through the ashes of the person I saw in the picture this morning to the person I keep thinking I am  to the picture I saw on the computer to the person I probably look like to someone else.  I probably look so different than what I think, than what I am- when did all that happen? Why am I here, not why do I exist, but why am I this person and how can I get it all to line up so I don’t feels so lost?

How can I take this off, the things that shroud me?  How can I make it work, the things that changed me (or the things about me that changed)? How can I accept this, the debris? How can I separate myself from the debris? I am not the debris, right? If I am the debris, what next? I don’t believe in giving up (I say this, though I just laid my head on the desk and thought, I just want to give up, that’s this place- that’s the confusion, the tired, the pollution clogging my lungs…)

I’m covered in debris, it’s dirty air I breathe, I don’t know how to be.

This is not always, but this is not unusual. But this is different than it was before. I evaluate why,what, etc, I like problem solving and not repeating mistakes (though I’m sure I do) and prevention, but sometimes, you just have to say “oh well”, that’s no good, what’s next? So maybe tomorrow. Maybe today is just a day I’ll sit and sleep in debris and I’ll wake up tomorrow able to sift through, wash off, step outside and clear my lungs.

The thing is, it’s not unhappy, if it sounds that way, it’s not about happy/unhappy, it’s beyond that.

Just writing has helped.


2 Responses to "Work out the kinks in the words I can’t say"

I think it’s me

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