Traditional Healer
Sometimes I cannot sleep
In the abyss of my stomach
My muscles weep
My gut sinks and falls deep
Into the ashes of my sadness
And I hear that feeling creep
Crawling eight legged, without leaps
And tells me to be still. No emotion
Frozen. The visuals appear
And I see my preoccupation
With death, play itself out
I feel the asphyxiation, the nausea and pain
I see the blood, in slow motion again
Droplets sprinkle through the sky
And plaster across my face
Is this my destiny? Or has the psyche been misplaced
Mistaken for the wise one, sagacious
Present African Swiss presented ancesterous
Dimensions that exit the premise of this world
Float in saltwater, captured in bottles, blurred
Am I jumping to endings, pretending
That if I were chosen, I would be understanding?
Why am I fascinated by her at night?
In the darkness I am entertained, more than in fright
I call them all, but they lack sight
Because when I can see it
Those on earth call it foresight.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
