The Battle

i daily mourn

the friendships lost

in finding myself

by pulling away

when i lacked strength

to face each day

when i felt sick

with each new dawn

where love was lost

and lines were drawn

when i felt too much

in feeling neglected

when much had been taken

but never respected

i wielded a sword

and cut through the pain

with swift mighty strikes

again and again

and with each blow

i severed ties

which bound me to

a weighty life

of trying to do

what i thought was expected

of living in fear of being rejected

of balancing egos

including my own

of building a house

where all felt at home

but when i had finished

and my battle was won

where once stood an army

i now saw was none

grateful for those

who stayed strong in the fray

whose love was a shield

which i raised everyday

but now that i’ve triumphed

within and without

the death blows have filled me

with guilt

and with doubt

that some of my victims

might just have been saved

if i hadn’t been armed

with such sadness and rage

but here i must stand

in the wake of it all

in the place i have come

in the peace and the still


whether some dead might still rise


if i could – or should –

seek a reprise


that if i hold out a new hand

backwards i’ll tumble

and backwards i’ll land

or if seeking new ties

after cutting the old

the old friends i seek

will prove bitter and cold

so here i will lay

in the dark before dawn

in the still of the night

in the dark of my thoughts

all weapons now stowed

for i have no more fight

i will lie in my bed

i will look for the light

trusting that time

might just show me the way

trusting myself to have faith everyday

that the battle hard fought

had its reason and marrow

that the pain and the death

helped me reach for tomorrow