April 9: Shelter

Sick heart; Companions


Sick heart

The invasion was subtle at first,
charts and maps with lines drawn on it,
the navigation slow and our compass
pointing ‘right’ – it all made sense when
we contemplated, but as time moved
inexorably to the point,
I was brought up short and left alone,
a single soldier to hold the fort; but it was
a subtle maneuver, so friendly
and so fun at first glance, until I saw
the invasion coming:
and there was no stopping…
my heart is sick, I think to myself, so
I retreat further in – first the house,
then my room, then an even smaller space
until my mind outside refused to activate;
I spent days in a silent agony,
feeling baited and betrayed, always
slinking around my own sanctuary,
and trying to not admit to that pain—
but my heart is sick, I have a right, I think,
and though my mind agrees and
the compass is reset: I know
that I’ve trapped myself… where, then,
is sanctuary?
is only my own mind left to me?
I’ve left by choice and by force of fate,
and I have learned to let go
but when even the little things are touched,
through simple tactless ignorance,
I say: my heart is sick,
I can take no more of this, and I
try to escape… my shelter is shrinking,
my heart is twisting in its weakened state
and I run until I can run no more, and
I can only hope that my new sanctuary
is more bearable than the one I’ve abandoned…
I can only hope that my heart is safe,
in a place where healing can come
and where my shelter is more than a place,
rather, somewhere I can call home.


April 9, 2014

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Shelter is the windswept plateau on which we camp,
lying out in the sand to gaze at the steady stars, never
really changing, only in details here and there—
it is the sunrises and sunsets unimpeded by mortals and
their incessant problems, when we’re left to our own devices…

Shelter is the secret affection I only show with
smiles I never let you see, because shelter is
where my heart beats a wild fancy that involves you,
in a place far away from what we do in the everyday, and
it is the thought that, in real anguish, I can slip into with ease…

Shelter is the small cave we found in the forest,
where we can watch the rain swell the stream rushing by,
and when we awaken by our fire, we are greeted
with song and new sunshine on the damp ground:
shelter is a place we found and rested, together, inside…

Shelter is so many places and things, but most of all I love
the shelter that your arms give; though we wander together
through broken spires, ruins and ancient graves, enchanted forests
and from dungeons to castles, we roam endlessly, but
at the end of it all, though I may never tell you: shelter is you…

…and your shelter is the only one I truly need.


April 9, 2014

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