Obstacle Course

I am just so accustomed to thinking no one is going to approach my body with kindness.                                                                                                                                           ~ Roxane Gay


I push the air in front of me as I walk and hope it cushions,
so that I pass unnoticed through the crowd,
and the scraping feeling across my neck lifts
away leaving only the tingle,
like the shudder from a lemon slice,
still tacked lightly to my nape,
ready to burst out in full force if attention heats it back to clutching point.
I move with dull and dogged steps 
feeling like a volcano,
towered violence waiting to break free,
but it’s not lava that I spill, 
silent and dumb tears.
 Words can’t hurt you
should be rephrased as 
words can’t hurt you where it shows…
In a world that bows to the uniform,
those wounds cannot be allowed to surface,
to throw the pattern off,
to jangle the color scheme,
to skew the line.
A closed door and a slumping shoulder
are the only signals that I,
the reluctant and battered contender, 
can allow. 
Letting the air move freely,
to surround me,
in such gratitude for a crumb of respite.
As the obstacle course resets itself
for the walk tomorrow.

About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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4 Responses to Obstacle Course

  1. “I move with dull and dogged steps
    feeling like a volcano,
    towered violence waiting to break free,
    but it’s not lava that I spill, ”

    Beautiful lines these here dear! Loved it. Keep it on.

    Hey just one more thing! I am a bit new here and i am an amateur poet writing his own poetry blog,so would you please visit my blog (The Diary of the fallen soul) and follow me if you like my content.


  2. Pingback: Writing Links…7/3/17 – Where Genres Collide

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