Coping

I’m reading a book recommended to me

By a woman whom I once adored.

I’m reading, avoiding inviting the world

For the world leaves me feeling ignored.

I make friends with a spider I’m terrified of

Who lives on my white bedroom wall;

I know he deserves life as much as I do

Even though he is creepy and small.

I’m wearing soft clothing, lying and waiting

And writing a poem in bed,

Remembering over and over forever

The words that I felt and I said.

I’m hearing the lawnmower, water through pipes,

The cars on the road passing by

Destined to be somewhere other than here

And I can’t help my wondering why.

Why is the grass not allowed to be growing?

Why must the spider bring fear?

Why do the people drive quickly to elsewhere

When they know they will end up back here?

Why do I care for an author’s opinion?

Why can’t I love people less?

All I can do is get up and keep smiling

And be me: a beautiful mess.