Every thought that grows in my mouth
I send to you
every tender and tangled happy noose filled with poppies
I send to you
every signal I’ve received from the grand universe
I send to you
every flugelhorn symphony I’ve dreamed up
I send to you
every same damn old thing thousands have made already instead
I send to you
every sore, magnified; psoriasis, not hidden from view
I send to you
every bloom born on the dark side of the moon
I send to you
every kind word uttered this year, folded into an envelope
I send to you
every note filled with marvelous love
I send to you
every thoughtless burning of wounded spirits
I send to you
every siren calling me home, safe from dangerous waves
I send to you
every time I try to change my own mind for the better
I send to you
Are you receiving it
are you receiving it
are you receiving it
every time
I send to you?
I shouldn’t care at all
I shouldn’t care at all
I shouldn’t care at all
but I do
All these somebodies love you 1/16/18 by Carrie Magness Radna
January 16, 2018 ~ Leave a comment ~ Edit
All these somebodies love you, sweet Darling,
so why, even after all of these years,
don’t you try to love yourself?
Yes, dear one, you’re your own worst enemy.
When did your own inner rebukes first germinate,
by another’s casual but unkind observation of your actions,
or did you mix up the poison all by yourself?
What was the first doubt, the first self-deprecation?
You don’t ever remember, don’t you?
Don’t you notice the ones watching you close-by,
they would run to catch you if you fall, when you do fall,
but you froze up, so you couldn’t fall, or feel
as the smile you painted on still remains on your face.
Why can’t you trust us, dear one?
We can listen and help you out —
Even the strongest trees bend in storms,
and they seem dead during Winter, even when they’re not.
You are not dead yet.
You are valued and lovely, and we want you alive.
The blooms are coming soon, and so will you, eventually.