for my ima
people by nature are headstrong.
and we run straight into
what plagues us.
our bodies make sick slapping
noises as we smack
into our issues.
feeling them slice into our bodies
and cut apart our organs
we take it in, become it
and let it pass through our being
and then the problem is behind us.
our motion never stops,
we simply come out on the other side
and begin the healing process.
but some separations never truly heal
and for the rest of our lives
we must grip that piece to us
to keep it with us.
we exist, divided from our bodies
every day is an effort to keep
from simply falling apart
and the tension in our limbs never relaxes
for fear of leaving something important behind.
like the chunk of hair you keep
firmly tucked behind your ear
because it never reattached after
he ripped it from your head.
or the blood you wiped up off the floor
which now stains your jeans
or my heart, which fell straight out
of my chest when you left--
these pieces accumulate.
in old age, it is a struggle to even walk
we carry so many pieces with us
our skin hangs like spaghetti from our arms
and our hands clutch it to our bodies
our back is hunched to stop
our stomach from dropping to the floor
and we kick along our heart.
not able to leave it behind,
not yet ready to reaccept it into our bodies.
but stopping is never an option.
we grin and we bear it
through our physical plight.
we pull our pieces close to us
and we go on.