Release

a pile of bricks behind my back
held with twine that tears into my palms
(blood spilling as it rips the skin,
blood pouring onto them)

i can’t release it

every now and then a brick
will fall from the pile,
forcing me to stop my forward motion,
bend over, bring it back

i can’t release it

a pile of bricks behind my back
held with twine that tears into my muscles
(ripping them apart at the seams,
ripping me apart at the seams)

i can’t release it

every now and then a brick
will fall from the pile,
forcing me to stop, to mortar it
to the wall i try to repair

i can’t rebuild it

a pile of bricks behind my back
held with twine as thin as a line of fire
(burning me up with every step,
burning them up with every step)

i will release it

Magma

i don’t want to be this parent
but sometimes the anger boils up
and overflows, spewing ash
that blocks my love for you

it’s still there (the love), hot
magma in the depths of my
hollowed out mountain, but
it’s a slow and heavy river.

you are asleep by the time
the ash settles, gray streaks
of its tiny particles on your cheeks,
and i will not wake you.

the clouds are slow and heavy at dawn,
mimicking my magma as you wake
and i take you into the hollow,
wrapping you in the warmth of my love.