Poem: Sometimes by Meredith Debonnaire

This is relatively new – a few months I think. I really like reading this one out loud – it’s got an urgency that sort of builds (I think).

Sometimes
In the night I can hear the echoes
of a river that never ran through this street
and the creaks of the not-boats drifting like leaves along it.
Sometimes
in the night I canΒ  hear the pigeons
squabbling and doing magical mundane pigeon things
six feet above me on the roof
and
I don’t sleep,
sometimes,
because to sleep would be to admit another day is coming.
The river is full of secret nighttime commerce,
happening quietly around and beneath the loudmouthed drugdealers
and
I heard from beneath the sounds of my neighbours’ party
mingling with the deep voice of some beast
who stalks me, curious, and is interrupted by Basshunter again.
I try to keep moving
like a shark
like something so much smaller than a shark
and
Sometimes
in the night I hear the ocean
rolling through my veins
my heart
each beating
crazy
broken
part.
Sometimes
I only sleep.
Sometimes
I only sleep then sometimes the deep reverberating bass of revelations
sings up through my bones and rattles in my skull
my precious fragile skull
and I can never find the words again afterwards.
Sometimes
I dream of burying myself in ice
and I wake up wrestling my own body which is the wrong size again
the wrong shape again
and I don’t yet know any words that fit over my skin comfortably –
I am still overwriting all the words I was given that I did not want
my hands get scarred and full of them.
Sometimes
in the night the moon calls me
and calls me and calls me until
all the water in my body shakes and sings
I am too scared to go out too scared of mundane things
the drugdealers are loud again in the alley outside my door
the dark I’ve been taught is full of threats
and
I would like the dark if it came apart from the threat
the always threat
of violence against my female body
my not-always-right female body and
Sometimes
in the night I PACE PACE PACE
like a lion in a cage with no keepers in sight no keepers to bite
to maul
to maim
and the night river is busy
and
beings with stick-insect legs and bodies like five-dimensional sheds
are shining foglights across Stroud and
Sometimes I lie in bed and decompose –
my body a rich slow collapse and I lapse back into silence like soil.
Sometimes
I hear screams from dreams that I am trying not to eavesdrop on
and filling my ears does not work
and my body goes through the motions at work while I dream of words.
Sometimes
in the night
I am exhausted and I bring exhaustion home
and I fight it tooth and nail until the small bright hours and get nothing done.
Sometimes
in the night
I am unobserved
and I laugh at how absurd my life’s become
in the dark
in the shadows
in the gloom
in the fog
and I stuff my fingers behind my teeth trying to keep it all in
and
Sometimes
the flat floats and bobs:
a riverboat adrift atop the echo of a river that never ran.
Sometimes
in the night
staying here is all I can do
and I lie
and close my eyes
and imagine you; existing
just existing
somewhere else across the sea as we both cling on with our nails and sweat
and I see you and you see me
Sometimes
in the night
the wind has a voice that keens
and
I will stay here
I will stay here but
I don’t always know what that means…


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5 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. YogaRuby
    Mar 12, 2018 @ 14:47:49

    Merry this is so beautiful. You are amazing XXX

    Reply

  2. Nimue Brown
    Mar 13, 2018 @ 11:28:20

    Reblogged this on Druid Life and commented:
    I’m a big fan of Merry’s poetry.

    Reply

  3. WellEssenceCoaching
    Mar 16, 2018 @ 20:29:04

    Oh the feels! 😍😌

    Reply

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