Monday, July 27, 2015

Losing hope

I lie about my scar.
Had I gotten it for being brave
rather than stupid,

had I repeated courage
a thousand times
instead of weakness.

We pretend to
read each other well.
He looks at me

once every six months.
I live a little. Die a little.
Lose words.

I replace pain with silence.
Respond separation
with unconditional love.

But my heart is so tired.

(I am so tired.)


  1. I know that tired feeling, Kenia. "I replace pain with silence." I remember. What I know......there are much happier days ahead.

  2. Excellent poem, even though it is borne of depression. So many good lines like "I live a little, Die a little". Such is life, the good and the bad.

  3. It is a significant truth about life that it cannot be lived without gathering scars along the way. I am so moved by the way you have explored this theme your poem. It is aching but also beautiful because the human spirit portrayed is so loving, so devoted that the silence becomes a strength in my eyes, and the scars not so much as marks of foolishness but the evidence that one must take risks in life.