I fall into cushions of fabricated words thick skin that I have formulated everything is relative but nihilism makes me sad. Clouds have entered my brain again there is only fog that stands between me and reality So I blow but only the candle on my desk turns dark.
poem
My thoughts on grief: two poems
I
They say, when someone dies,
it takes time for you to heal
it’s the most common advice
when you don’t know how to feel
But
Minutes won’t soothe crying
years won’t bring her back
she keeps on dying
brain capacity
is what I lack
See
Her laugh was once pictorial
today: a distant cry
what is in a memorial
if memories just die?
II
11 years
She is still there,
somewhere
deeply buried
inside my brain
I can’t hear her voice
anymore,
but maybe that made it
easier,
maybe a fading smell
is the only way to
appreciate the smell
of honey again
(even if you don’t want to)
Still,
she lives in between the folds
and sometimes,
when I’m reading a book,
she would enjoy,
her laugh appears
to reassure me that
she is a memory
that sticks
(albeit the memory of a 9 year old)
Layered identity
I go extinct every day
I try to explain it
to myself often, but
I exist for less
than a second.
Versions after versions layer
behind each other,
slightly different
and eventually
completely different.
I consist of 630201600
versions of myself
And I still need to tell myself
that I have the right
to be inconistent.
My skin feels
like stone
can you kiss it
until it’s velvet?
Bring your lips
down my spine
until my skin
feels like silk
Refractions
The light creates a
bright square on my bed
How tempting to
lay in the sun for a while
The warmth cradles my body
and my eyes shut automatically
Later, I move into my window frame
and open my eyes to read stories
that have never existed
but feel universal
My cheeks have turned red
Freckles have dotted all over my nose
In Dutch the splitting of light
is called the breaking of light
and as an unexpected rainbow
colours my ribs
I wonder if ‘breaking’ can be good
How can a rainbow be anything but good
after all?
There is no availaible connection, please try again.
I deflate
and only now
do I realize
how much air circulated
in my body.
The tone of your voice(mail)
echoes in my head
three beeps in a
continuous loop
and no response
An orange-pink-red flame
Escapril has started! 30 days, 30 poems! Follow @babettehelena_s on instagram to read my attempts!
Here is the first one (prompt: dawn)
Light seeps through and
breaks the notion of the night
time is visible again
and somewhere
it is dusk,
the sky might look the same:
an orange-pink-red flame
there is a second of similarity,
which leaves us a little lost
is the day almost starting
or will the night soon defrost?
insights
I keep forgetting
your ‘normal’ isn’t
mine.
I keep forgetting
the colours you see
aren’t the same.
I keep forgetting that
I am stuck inside
my head,
while you wander freely
in yours.
I keep forgetting that
when my hands are cold
yours are not,
and I keep forgetting
that you too
will see raindrops fall
when clouds turn grey
Ships in the night
Originally a Dutch poem. Read the Dutch version here
We pass each other
like ships in the night,
a nod
nothing more.
We wonder
where the other will go
while it is
still so dark outside
and the sea is enormous.
but the weak lights
of our ships
do not give us enough directions
to go anywhere at all
so we sail
back and forth
and pass each other
over and over
flavourlessly flat
I would like to break
let there be ruptures in my skin
I want to feel dry eyes
and no air to breathe, while I spin.
Stick needles in my back
filled with feelings that I can’t carry
Poison me, let me die and vomit
until all I cough up is blood coloured like cherry
And I cough and I cough and I cough
But even though I never add salt
my body is filled with a liquid version of it.
And I can’t break
I still breathe
I can’t cough
tears will not leave
And blood circulates my body
like it has done for years
my skin remains plain
no emotions, it appears.
Babette Helena 