No Wiggle Room

This last crucible left me

hanging awhile. More nails 

than usual were pounded in 

to keep me strung up and out

 until it was accomplished.

Resurrection had no priority

in the plan to finish it once and

for all by walking off the back

of the ferry into night's belly. 

Cold water takes good care

to numb the pain before 

the gurgling and gasping 

end comes, right?

 Grief and sadness can be

 frozen first, right? 

An old friend once told me - 

never make plans or

 rewrite the rules made

 on the mountain

when down in the valley.

I forgot to be scared, aware or 

concerned about this minor detail. 

I needed a sign. Speaking with

authority it came into my field of

vision. The Captain insisted I take 

notice and obey the written rules. 

I didn't have permission to 

disembark the vessel, middle 

of the ocean, eye of the storm. 

Period. Period. Period. 

Please don't call the suicide prevention help line for me. This is way better. Poetry is the best way for me to put chaos in order. I don't know if other people have moments of complete and utter darkness or not. I hope it's a rare thing. I've said it before, I don't want medicated. I'm not sold on the results I see. A lobotomy isn't the answer. Love wins. It does. 

On the other side of a rough patch, I always know I've learned some crucial lesson. I always have a growth spurt. The agony bears good fruit. 

I think I wrote this out loud so some other person facing pain and darkness would know that they are not alone. Leaving's not the only way to go. There is the option of going through it instead of around it. 

I love you. I understand. Here I am in the trenches with you, shoulder to shoulder. Muddy. Bruised. Fatigued. Just like you. I raise a glass to you. Let's scream, "L'Chaim" together. To life. To life. To life.  Where's Tevye? 

Today, I'm relieved someone else writes the rules. And sometimes that same captain beckons me to step out of the boat and double dog dares me to walk on water. I am. And I'm not looking down.