The Earth is Not A Cold, Dead Place

Your coming of age
was a stripping of mythologies,
pillars tumbling
amongst the ruin of
what was

“To grow up,
You must throw off everything
you ever believed. Everything
we taught you. This is the way of things.”

The songs we sung
to lull you to sleep
were only antidotes for tears
and if we hear these old psalms
tumble from your lips,
we’ll press the knife against
your neck

Your initiation was no
walk-about, alone, but
an overcrowding of idealogies
vying for your affection.

Various potions and pills
lined up to regulate
the stream-lined sense
of normality –

the ever-looming stigma
of “crazy” circles you like vultures.

We all sit and wonder
why little hands grasp
to guns, make-believe about
eradicating the place that
told them they could do anything
then shoved them out the front door,
locked the magic carpet away

And I am still sneaking off to Narnia,
still mapping my Neverland,
still struggling to smuggle others
through the cracks of sanity,
believing the cement
never fully dries



Truly, NaPoWrimo has been amazing for me thus far, because I’ve gotten works written and I can let go of them not being “perfect”. For me, this is perhaps the biggest hurdle. They are mostly pieces I would not show anyone. They’re more infantile than a work in progress.  I am so grateful that I’ve at least coaxed them out a little further than I usually would. I’ve begun to really connect with “the journey is the thing”. I understand now in a way I hadn’t before.

This idea is one I am truly interested in exploring more. I simply wanted to get it out, for now.

The title is actually an Explosions in the Sky title (I seem fond of doing that, eh?)

Link to the song here:


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