I revealed on my Facebook Page recently that I have been back to writing poetry… after 15 years. I also revealed that that has scared me immensely.
As a response of gratitude for all the support I have received as a result of expressing my vulnerability, I have decided to share with you the first poem I’ve written in 15 years.
In the poem, I’m processing a lot of heavy and specific experiences that this past Spring served me. And as Fall Equinox approaches, it feels like a good time to let this one go. Every word has its own life to live. And though the trust is scary, I won’t give in. So here it goes. And thank you in advance.
The Smoke You Left Behind
by Tyler Batson
Pluck a word from the sky
so thick with smoke
you could cry
Let it be “fuck”
then “you”
then “I am not your wound”
To pick
You prick
(a karmic cycle yet to be soothed
with one last truth to slap at the bruise)
There, there sweet son
where did you go?
Who took you there
and what did they do?
Did they teach you to lie
And forget how to cry?
(too scarred to call out to the sky
too scared to ask Him “But why?”)
There, there mad man
Where did you go?
Who took you there
and where are they now?
Cloaked in robes unfurled?
Forgiven?
Or just a rotted root
Choking
On the smoke you left behind?
(your first kiss: power
your last kiss: powder)
