kyndallrae

creating me [using words]

Heave

Grief like dry heaves
racking my body
rattling my breath
I cave in at the knees

white porcelain rim
of my humiliation
catches nothing,
only sweat and a shaking hand

even my eyes
are heaving dry, emptied
violently of their tears
my lungs too, cavernous voids

heart has always been a hollow muscle
passageway pumping blood through
like a steady drum
not to be silenced

I find myself with hand over heart
as I read, as I grieve, as I pray
I rest my palm just there
willing her to revive my organs

sensing her inner ever-
flowing tear-ducts,
imagining blood like wet rain
rushing forth to expel the poison

slowly washing out dis-ease
with white warriors
like tiny lights
to festering wounds

all the while I remain crouched
grotesquely over the toilet
this seemingly useless retching
a perfectly necessary distraction

my secret heart pumps rhythmically on

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4 thoughts on “Heave

  1. Brit on said:

    this one is powerful. never stop writing, Kyndall!

  2. Thanks Brittany, I needed to hear that today!

    • Brit on said:

      you’re so welcome! you should know, you have inspired me to start writing poetry again. it’s messy, but i didn’t realize how much i’ve missed it. it turns out, our God is more a play-with-children-and-talk-to-strangers kind of God than my more-politically-correct-than-thou colleagues might have wanted me to believe. Most days I see more of God on the streets than i do in my study. and i like it that way :)

      • Yay for writing poetry!! That’s terrific. Thanks for telling me!

        I definitely don’t know how to write “proper” poetry (which is probably obvious!), but something about writing line by line taps a deeper strand of my creativity and unlocks a compartment of my psyche that was closed to me before.

        And YES to God out in the world, visible in the unexpected places.

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