This World, My World

I’ve been building this world
But there are holes in the roof
And the walls where things should be

I have this object sitting on the floor
Too heavy for me to lift
I have touched it so many times
When I walk by
That it has been worn smooth
It’s the wrong shape to fill that
Void now, I should just get rid of it

I have been cobbling together
This world where brilliant colors
Collide with black and white and
Explode into something I can not
Exactly explain, let alone comprehend

If I had a cat it would run itself ragged
Chasing the little birds that come to
Visit me at the holes in the roof and walls
I should complete this world and head
Them off at the pass, but I won’t

This world is a comfortable and
Relatively safe place for me to sit and
Enjoy the breeze through the roof and
The walls, I like to write and sing and
Read and sometimes cry here, I like
To let the breeze blow my tears dry

I should finish this world, with its
Unsightly chasms, it has been far
Too long, trying to fill in those holes
What on Earth have I been waiting for
Dragging it on for so long?

I’m afraid, such a powerful thing, fear is
I’m afraid, such a dangerous thing, fear is
The power and danger have combined
To render me static over so many years

What if I finish my world and I am left with
Nothing else to do?

What if all the hopes and dreams I have expected
from my world become blurry doubts and shadows?

What if I bring you into my world and you
Turn away?

So
I set on task, to fill in all the holes
To run those risks, to wait and see
What comes out the other side

Certainty is what we strive for
The unknown is what we live for

— GB

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progression

this is not a progression,
this doesn’t just get better,
things may seem as though
they are improving
but that is just an illusion,
I ride uneven ellipses,
showing periodic signs
of hope,
every step reaches
the apex,
every step begins
a long descent,
every time the pattern
of peaks and valleys
gets solved,
it gets broken,
and we go hoping for that
progression again

— GB

Hope’s Champion

Hope carried on the wings of a butterfly
Is strong when it is calm and quiet

When the wind begins to rage
Hollering through the trees
Bending the heads of the flowers
Like the butterfly, hope can get blown
Off course

Hope needs a champion
To protect it from the slashing winds
And pounding gales
To keep it on course no matter what

Who will be hope’s champion this storm?
Will it be you?

— GB

the ink on my paper

the ink on my paper
has turned on me

every word I put down
turns into an image of you

happy and laughing
throwing bread to the
seagulls

excited and terrified
riding the coaster
for the first time

the ink on my paper
turns every tragedy
I write about us into

songs of love and hope

infinite dreams about
our future

intimate words under
a blanket

bringing her into the
world

the ink on my paper
is all I do anymore

to bring you back from
the other side

so I can see your smile
as your eyes gaze off
into the distance

to show her who her
mommy was

— GB