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Em Henderson Poem
hey dad,
it’s been a while. thirteen years and six months if we’re being precise.
i write your title a lot nowadays
‘dad’
but you dont know me
i’ll introduce
my name is emry grace henderson
im fourteen, with blonde hair and green eyes (which everyone seems keen on commenting about- i think the gold flecks are from your amber ones)
i love music
love the sound of strings vibrating on a flat surface, haunting melodies
(or in our case, Irish folk songs- though i suppose you wouldnt know that?)
I’ve missed you- though i suppose thats also a bit of an understatement
im not sure i understand you
understand why
no matter how hard my grandmother explains
on a sunday evening
although ive heard we are pathologically similar
(i wouldnt know)
how are you?
what are you like?
ive a vague outline of you
faded and blurry, yet as vibrant as autumn in virginia
(i never did tell you about that trip did i?)
it’s good to get this out- im not sure i could speak it aloud- ive a way of fumbling the words until their unintelligible,
only understood by the leaves that shake in the wind, by the hummingbirds in the skies, by the black bose i wear as a grounding element
somedays i wonder if this was ever meant for me
do you feel like this?
(from what ive heard you collapsed under the weight- i hope not to)
they say we’re similar
though bitterness kept me from acknowledging this truth
i hope you’ll meet me someday
when the voices are less present- and you are free from the weight of this world- because i’d love to finally meet you.
Copyright © Em Henderson | Year Posted 2024
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Details |
Em Henderson Poem
somedays its crushing
life.
somedays its all i can do to smile
to pull a breath into my shaky lungs
and still my hands against the tremors of my legs
i want to press pause. or press stop. for good.
everything aches,
from my head to my chest to my knees to my back to my wrists to my eyes-
stop
stop
stop
stop please stop
stop
im done
im tired
im done
im tired (and i think ive said this before i think ive said this before i-)
im breathing. i swear im exhaling. i swear im trying. i sweariswearisweari-
im remembering now, the days when
pulling air into these lungs wasnt so difficult
when laughing freely was mere assignment
when smiling openly wasnt so tedious
and hugging didnt make me want to dance my way off a cliff
of my own thoughts
but now id very much like to crawl out of my skin into your veins
and feel something other than my freezing blood and trembing hands
and tired eyes
because of one too many all nighters
because of my shallow breathing and foggy thoughts
could you find it in you to fix this?
Copyright © Em Henderson | Year Posted 2024
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Details |
Em Henderson Poem
it doesn't take much
to embrace
to smile softly
to send a message
to let me know you're still there
it doesn't take anything
to stay with me
on a night when the world is screaming and i cant silence the noise
to shield me
on a morning when the weight of existence is crushing my shoulders
to whisper to me
on an evening when tendrils of youth long lost cling to me
like a child to its mother
it takes everything in me to not reach out
to hold you
and yet it takes everything in you to look at me
with eyes not clouded by that of the past.
Copyright © Em Henderson | Year Posted 2024
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Em Henderson Poem
can you see it
can you feel it?
the echoes of a millennium
sitting still as the earth holds its breath
tendrils of a ghost long past
the lover’s caress
cradling those hidden within its depths
we are alive
we breathe, yet you hold yours
they speak,
can you hear it?
Copyright © Em Henderson | Year Posted 2024
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Em Henderson Poem
it's 12 am and i cant breathe
my mind, flashing through images and moments and pockets of space and time
a restless energy
a redemptive ache
as i scream the name of a distant god
its 1 am and the silence is so loud
at the computer, i take my first deep breath
the world is quiet tonight
unlike my sweaty palms racing heart (i dialed your number, my hand slipped)
'why?' i reach a clammy hand out
feeling at an endless darkness
its 2 am and my brain is hammering against my skull
like a prisoner begging for release
again i reach
for a nonexistent hand
can i dial jesus? (i think id like his number on speed dial)
its 3 am and i dont know if i can make it until 4
i lay now, praying for the reprieve of sleep
my fingers reach up
clawing at my eyes
tugging at my hair
grasping at the small
cross gifted to me by
someone long lost
i stared at your number 'till 5 am
'till the sun peeked his head out
as if a reminder that life continues on (though i miss the stillness of night)
i miss your hand in mine
i cried out to any who'd listen
grasping at straws, brokering deals with the spiders on my wall
please come home
the pastor told me itd never happen
but i called your mum
and she said you still lived on in me
its 6 am now
and id like for you to stop living in me and just- just hold me
please?
Copyright © Em Henderson | Year Posted 2024
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Details |
Em Henderson Poem
It gets better
Taking things day by day
Its a little easier to get up in the morning
To smile and make breakfast and wash your face
To do a quick yoga session and laugh with your mum over morning coffee
The weight on your shoulders never really gets lifted
The bags under your eyes never really goes away
The scars on your forearms never quite heal
A silver streak to remind you
But it doesn’t matter because today you woke up and smiled and made breakfast and chatted with mum over coffee and did some yoga and laughed a little
So its ok that its not quite easy,
It never really will be,
But today you woke up and tomorrow you’ll wake up and the next day you’ll wake up
Who knows, maybe you’ll end up cleaning your room and buying fresh oranges at the market and laugh a little louder with your mum
Copyright © Em Henderson | Year Posted 2024
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