Poem XIX: The Old and The New

 

The Old and The New

There’s a space between the old and the new
where anything can grow
—from flowers to rotten seeds

It will depend on how you use it,
your intention,
and the energy that surrounds it

I woke up the other day thinking about the old
and how bad it made me feel
But I also wondered what it would be like
if I try it again

The scarcity, I said

The abandoned wound vibrato across my chest
inciting old patterns
The internal corpse responding and bouncing a little
–like a resting machine

A warm sweat on my neck
a sinking feeling in my chest
reminded me of that pain
that physical inquisition
coming from my brain

The inner child, I said

Proving herself wrong
weighting her worth against empty words
But she doesn’t see it
She doesn’t even understand it
She believes
with her shrinking heart
That her value is there, somewhere

Tangled wires of synthetic feelings
A pound of hay pretending to be gold
Ice cubes looking like diamonds
Surrounded by cloudy knifes
And a song so sharp that it makes you bleed from within

From time to time
The new obliterates itself
Scared by the uncertainty
And that old corpse humming
–like a resting machine

The hope is there, I said

There’s a space between the old and the new
where anything can grow
—from flowers to rotten seeds

It will depend on how you use it,
your intention,
and the energy that surrounds it