Open Wound

 

The sun rises 

with its murder of crows, 

and I fight the spoon 

that feeds me another

hour of prayers unanswered. 

Is there a god who doesn’t 

bind me to a hymn that

sings only heaven will

bring freedom? 

The gravel beneath my feet

never grows softer. 

My spirit is too raw to 

even form a scar. 

I’ve bled my heart into

journal pages, carried matches

to light candles that never stay lit. 

I’m so weary I’ve grown deaf

to my bones begging me to rest. 

I fear I’m becoming as silent

as those I thought would speak. 

Susie Clevenger 2023

 

 

I've Never Lost My Shoes

Is this tomorrow

or am I still on

today’s treadmill?

I’m beginning to wonder

where I fit in other than

on trauma’s fist.

In my everything’s coming up roses

I am making bouquets out of dry petals.

Questions flower on my tongue

only to be met by the drought of no answers.

Lately I’ve been screaming in empty rooms

where my voice disappears into nail holes

I’ve hammered in my gallery of goodbyes.

There is weakness in strength, fear in being brave.

I’m tired of having to cross another valley,

but grateful I’ve never lost my shoes. 

©Susie Clevenger 2023

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