The Invisible Weight

I'm incredibly tired.  Somehow, my body has relaxed and my eyelids are heavy.  But my eyelids haven't been the only thing feeling heavy in my world. 

Today, my entire world carried a heaviness, as if an invisible weight had been put on my shoulders, getting heavier until I felt as though it would pull me down to the floor.  Every door I opened created a heavier air.

Today, my entire world carried a heaviness, as if someone was about to die, and the invisible weight on my shoulders was that I knew them.  They could be family, they could be friend; they could be someone I know.

Today, my entire world carried a heaviness, as if an invisible weight of visible contact crushed me, causing me to fret.  The thought of someone close simply being too close for comfort. The weight of socialization on spot.

Today, my entire world carried a heaviness, as if the invisible weight caused me to...

Sleep.  Sleep deeply.  Sleep deeply, to let my subconscious mind listen to whatever the heaviness had to say.  It places in my subconscious mind, great anxiety, that will surely cause me to weaken in place, unable to move.

Today, my entire world carried a heaviness.  As I try to stay awake to fix the weight of sleeping during the day and staying awake at night, I knew that the only heaviness I wanted to feel was that of deep relaxation.

I knew that the only way I was going to be rid of the heaviness was if I made it long enough to bear its lingering effects.

As I attempted to shift the weight from my shoulders to some other part of me, I found that it just wasn't working, and I knew I had to do something.

And fast.

But the invisible weight of my world was too much.

And I crashed, the very moment I tried to fly.

-LJ
29 May 2016

Walking on a Computer Keyboard (A Poem by My Cat)

uhhhhhh

yyyyy;

yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?

yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

6.

~LJ's Cat, Shadow~

30 May 2016

(my cat did not add

 any of the punctuation,

nor separate this into stanzas.  ;D)

I yield to the calm before the storm,

I yield to the calm before the storm,

to the raging tears and anger during it,

and the sight of what lingers after.

I am enthralled in the way 

the clouds get so dark and heavy,

the way the wind begins to pick up,

the way the sounds of chirping birds

turn to audible earthquakes.

I observe, from a safe place,

the birds and the puddles,

the sounds and the breaking

of threads too thin to even see.

But, I give way to the calm of the storm,

thinking not what lies ahead.

For now, imagining, in my little head,

what causes Him to weep once more.

Imagining, in my little head,

what message the peacefulness gives for me
through the calm before the storm,
listening quietly, listening firmly,
waiting for a strike of lightening
to reveal to me the peace He means.

-LJ

29 May 2016

Dulcet

He's been waiting for her arrival,

down the long and darkest hall, rattling in her waking shriek

as he sees her body fall, curling tightly in defeat.

He greets her calmly, helps her up,

knowing well what she seeks, knowing well what she's seen,

knowing well why she's so weak, knowing how to intervene.

He knows just how to do it.

A pocket-watch to gaze upon, so her eyelids dull,

so she dreams until dawn, so her body will lull.

He leads her somewhere
where her little heart can rest, where her little head can lay,
where her little mind can test the feeling of peace today.
He knows she'll sleep so soundly
when her eyes soon close, to dreams of Heaven's skies,
and calming river's flow, and many butterflies.

He watches as her body

melts into the softest sheet, her eyes following the locket

with a look so sweet, as the watch returns to his pocket.

He whispers in her ear

that she's worthy of love, that she is his sweetheart,

that she, his little dove, will never part.

He sings so very quietly

a song with dulcet tone, a lullaby to remind her

she will never be alone, as she spirals into slumber.

-LJ

26 & 29 May 2016

Detached

Detached,
as if suspended,
I feel the air leave my grasp,
and run away.
Detached,
as if submerged,
I feel the air leaving my lungs
and become part of the universe.
Detached,
as if exploding,
I feel the air burn my body
and become ash.
Detached,
as if resting,
I feel the air restored to me,
and sleep in peace.

-LJ

14 December 2014

Three Haiku in Three Minutes

Ten eighteen P M.

Almost time for bed; yes sir!

My eyes slowly close.

Ten nineteen P M.

Time for sleeping and dreaming,

but thoughts fill my head.

Ten twenty P M.

 Thoughts of what tomorrow brings

keep me up awhile.

Ten twenty-one.

-LJ
15 May 2016

The Sea of Hands

In a blurry half-sleep, the early spring chill

decided to keep me sitting quite still.

For in this cold morning, the sea of hands,

was cheering, roaring, in this inside land.

The flashes of light from every direction,

though not on my sight, but in my detection.

The stillness, in stands, as I sit and I gleam,

watched the sea of hands rejoice in true dreams.

And one moment passes, the bands are now playing,

another moment, the masses are fervently praying.

A minute, a voice, too much flashing light.

An hour, more voice; I suddenly fright.

Then it is done; it all disappears.

But how? Help me, someone; it's just not quite clear.

The lights have stopped flashing, the voices now quiet,

while explosions of sound are still not quite silent.

My mind wanted peace and out of this place,

while expressions of happiness shone on my face.

But in this half-sleep, the song of the sands

is now slowly winnowed by the sea of hands.

-LJ

13 May 2016