feel my pulse

Photo by Simon Fitall on Unsplash

Some nights, the sky is so vast and endless,

and these mountains are so quiet,

and it feels like the only way to breathe

is to put something in the world

that wasn’t there before.

I create

because joy moves too fast.

It’s the laughter of a close friend,

a burning bonfire and good wine,

music that feels like it was written for me,

his hand finding mine in the dark.

And I’m afraid it will vanish

unless I capture its essence in words,

in color,

in lines,

in sound.

I create

because suffering becomes physical.

Because if I don’t give it shape,

it takes residence in the body,

it blocks the throat,

and it starves the mind.

I want to press my palms

against the invisible wall between you and me

and feel your pulse answer back.

I want to read your words and whisper,

“Yes, I know this feeling.”

What I create marks transitions,

phases of my life,

who I was, who I loved, where I journeyed,

what was given and what was taken.

Death will take us all, in the end.

I create because I’m not certain it will last.

I create because something in me

refuses to pass through this life

without leaving a mark on yours.

******

This is the first poem I’ve ever shared publicly.

You all have inspired me to rekindle this love and release it into the wild.

If it touched your soul in any way, I’d love to hear about it.

In ink,

Allison

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