Long Wearing away Poems
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Perhaps I had done the gods wrong in my past life
Such that love was wielded to me as a knife
Maybe I’m confused, too young, and too naive
But isn’t it love if it destroys you when it leaves?
The eyes plead when your words escape you
They betray me when I say I’m done and through
For this feeling never truly disappeared, even if I deny
It’s hidden under a mountain of hurt, happiness, and lies
One could say it’s love in its purest and best form
It never even started, so why worry about the storm
It pushes all the limits and breaks all the rules
It ruins you and turns even scholars into fools
I was hopelessly hoping for a flicker or a spark
But I burned in your flames that lit up the dark
The days turned into months of wearing away
And the scars made me see stars in the light of day
It hurts too much to be given any other name
I was drawn to you like a moth to a burning flame
I tried to make you stay, but it was all for naught
For you were mine in all the ways you were not.
The Past
Our world is beautiful.
It is old, and it is young.
The difference between...
immortality and humanity.
Giants of enormous size, and strength,
titans mentioned, in the great Book.
Unicorns and talking donkeys,
dinosaurs, and a jabberwocky.
Dragons, and even great whales...
used by the hand of the Lord.
Written about, written down...
to be read again and again,
to know the wonders of our yesterday.
Pyramids, massive statues to lesser-thans,
destroyed and disassembled into dust.
Years wearing away what was,
to leave behind only what is,
or what is left,
to tease us,
and appease our sense of adventure,
and our lust for treasure.
Libraries burned to the ground,
or great arts stolen from their rightful places,
taken to hidden rooms,
coveted by shades that can not use them,
or remember why...
they wanted them at all?
We go to school,
and learn what is given to us.
Yet the truth is bleeding out, all around.
It is like water, seeking every level...
from the Arctic Circle,
to the content of Antarctica.
Science and religion attempting to describe...
what can not be explained,
without faith.
stepping
I skid
to my lips
I sip
on my boat
I skip
from my arms
I drip
I dive through
I zip
my hands grasp
I slip
bucket with leak
won't fill
my story
doesn't hold water
truth that's weak
leaks out.
water like time,
slips, slides away, can't be held
makes its way through cracks.
with drips and drops
it wears away a stone.
wily water has a will of its own
its goes where it wants to.
you need water most
when its gone
when the well is dry
you'll know
how much its worth
when it slips, slides,
flows away
with its drips and drops
relentless
singing along
with time's
ticks and tocks,
counting and
wearing away at life.
As the clear light rises higher
Illuminating fog
Humidity from Friday's rain.
Thicker down in the bog
Ole hound dog is baying a prey
He yelps for hours today
I don't understand how he sees
Even a squirrel at play
Ole hound dog uses his sense of smell
To get that squirrel treed
Then in the quietness I hear
Another dog answers his plead
The fog quite heavy in low places
The dove's coos vibrate on
There is something unsettling
Maybe not as active in tone
That hound is getting annoying
He needs a little nap
The roosters can hardly be heard
To bridge musical gap
The sound of a hummingbird is brief
As he seeks some flowers
Drink nectar to sate his appetite
Though no hibiscus bower
Hibiscus a delicious meal
Now bees come in burst or waves
To feed from begonias and moss
Their buzz is heard then fades
My hands are hurting as I write
Even with arthritis cream
Which does seem to ease the pain
Freedom only a dream
God grant me the insight to seek
The Great Physician, and not complain
Unlock my heart to the beauty here
And anchored in You remain.
2 Corinthians 4: 16 (NET) Therefore, we do not despair, but even if our physical body is wearing away, our inner person is being renewed day by day.
2 Corinthians 4:14-16
Amplified Bible
14 knowing that He who raised the Lord Jesus will also raise us with Jesus and will present us [along] with you in His presence. 15 For all [these] things are for your sake, so that as [God’s remarkable, undeserved] grace reaches to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of [our great] God.
16 Therefore we do not become discouraged [spiritless, disappointed, or afraid]. Though our outer self is [progressively] wasting away, yet our inner self is being [progressively] renewed day by day.
Written: July 2, 2022
I’m so scared of losing myself.
I’ve switched between so many faces
That I don’t know which one is real.
I keep bending to what others need.
The only thing I recognize is this feeling.
Chasing after some kind of love.
It’s been etched into me so deeply
That it’s wearing away my sense of self.
I made love my entire identity,
Yet I don’t even know what it is.
I just want to be held, what’s wrong with that?
Is it a sin to chase what I want?
I’m tired of writing love songs.
Tired of stories that always end in ruin.
They tell me to find myself, but where do I start,
If a part of me was never there to begin with?
I go to bed trying to cry,
But no tears ever come.
I feel like an empty husk,
Moving to the will of others.
How do I take my life back?
When do I get my happiness?
The stone.
Plain, Dusty, Worn. Full of holes and shortcomings.
Like me.
A droplet of water.
Changing, transforming.
Washing away the dirt, grime, muck.
Leaving behind a metamorphosized canvas of color.
The stone.
Altered forever. Carved and painted by the presence of water.
The water, falling, flowing, changing, forming.
A drip. Droplet.
Rain, Pouring down on me. On the stone.
Amending. Smoothing away the flaws.
The water of life, cleansing.
The stone.
Mended.
Turned from a pebble - like any other - to a unique fragment.
Smoothed over.
Remade.
The droplet, driplet.
Changing, moving me, like Him.
Wearing away my imperfections and sins.
Smooth, like the rock. Beautiful.
His.
Liquid Poetry
Pure liquid poetry pours out of my head,
Leaving my will and wishes for dead.
Just cannot stop this crazy mind,
From spitting out another rhyme.
Give it a rest!
Brain please hibernate.
Wake up in the morning, if you’re not too late;
But please! For the sake of sanity!
Please give me a break.
I’m wearing away in my dying days,
Just waiting for a future…
Where is she True Love?
You promised me.
It’s time for me to meet her.
This Wife you promised,
In exchange for me being honest.
Where is she? Who is she?
Come on; you promised.
I pledged my destiny to True Love. Remember?
Well? Who is my True Love? What have you done with her?
Is it you? Is it you? This is getting boring…
Or is it just another story?
A tale to tell your kids at night.
Oh yes it’s real; believe in True Love. Goodnight.
It’s real for everyone but me it seems;
For my True Love is still only The Woman of My Dreams.
(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Wild Irish sea pounds spray ashore,
its white teeth gnaw the stone down,
each tide returns, bites as before
wearing away the brown cliffs.
The wind flattens salted bluegrass,
while gulls wheel up in the sky
soaring as on an overpass
hang gliding over the crags.
Breaking waves surge up the sandstone
Falling back as white foam veils
stroking the old wounds to atone
for the endless scouring blows.
The strong swells drum through sea caverns,
blow-holes spray up in the sky
bringing cheers to seaside taverns
for the pipe, fiddle, drum songs.
Irish seals dive through kelp seaweed
silver backs, flash through foam spray,
twisting and turning at high-speed
laughing at angry sea grasps.
O Irish sea, carve deep tonight,
let your foam and surge shape me
for rugged crags are a highlight
on our weathered skin and shores.
O Irish sea, carve deep tonight,
let your foam and surge shape me
for rugged crags are a highlight
on our weathered skin and shores.
I am slid into the core of the big white tube.
It will reveal all my moving parts
all the flagging and wheezing organics
that reside in the same apartment block,
share the same airducts and plumbing,
but otherwise hang in semidetached hutches
strung around my walled city.
My neck hurts, the cat scan takes time.
I get to thinking about cats,
how they curl up to rest
in the most unusual places. Cat’s would probably
sleep well in this softly clicking tunnel.
My head needs a pillow, arms akimbo aching.
After ten minutes of thinking in this sterile cylinder
I am an annotated movie of my life,
a surface feature for the paranoia of clinging plants.
I trawl stagnant pools for whale calls
or anything that can sing in my turgid being,
but only a headless language
floats up.
I can only listen to organs stirring; some drool,
some open small gummy gobs and gills.
Dim rheumy senses squint. Pulpy cisterns gurgle,
glands groan under a weight
only a shut-in darkness can weigh.
Transportation hubs and their arteries
continue their tireless gift-wrapped deliveries.
Muscular chemicals continue their Peloton workouts,
but the body as a whole is still wearing away
what it can’t afford to lose.
“All done,”
a disembodied voice declares.
I am conveyed outwards
on the worlds shortest rail track,
leaving parts of my mind behind to clean up stray fears -
remove the litter of mad ponderings.
Results will be days away,
until then black cats in lightless rooms
must find a way to be seen.
For context, I'm almost 22.
I got sick at 18.
It's not like cancer or M.S., I'm not going to die.
But there's no explanation for the reason why I got sick.
Nobody knows, not me, not my doctor, not the specialists.
Mum thinks it's because I left home too young.
Dad thinks I have too much anxiety and I'm sick because of it.
My fianceé thinks maybe I'm reacting to my birth control or to natural hormones.
I think I woke up one day and I was sick.
It went just like that. Waking up one day with my stomach turning inside out.
Shoulders heaving for hours every morning,
Curled up on the floor of the bathroom, protesting the muscle convulsions.
I woke up this way every morning for over a year and no specialist could tell me why.
All I know is I'm sick.
My fianceé didn't sign up to be a caregiver,
Yet somehow he's thrown into the part.
Today, if I travel, I wake up sick. If I stay at a friend's house, I wake up sick. Often, when everything is normal, I still get sick.
I wake up at either midnight, 02:00am, or 05:00am and there is no hope of sleep until at least noon.
There is overwhelming nausea, dizziness, muscles contracting violently and burning.
There are my teeth which seem to be wearing away from my stomach acid.
There is the feeling that if this has to be my life now, i don't want to live it.
It's been 3 years since I had a single day without pain.
I pop ribs out of place as I vomit, so even after the nausea subsides I'm left sore and often bedridden.
My fianceé tries to ask how he can help,
And I'm sent into an emotional spiral.
"You can't help. I can't help me, my doctors can't - i don't want to do this tomorrow morning. I don't wanna wake up tomorrow if it'll be another day of this. I wanna give up."
Today, I want to give up. I want the burning muscles to stop. I want to be able to eat something other than applesauce mixed with water and not throw it up.
This doesn't feel like a life anymore.
I just wanna get better already.
I pray to whatever God listens that I get better.
I cannot do this forever.