My Mind

My Mind

 

Silence.

I close my eyes

And feel my mind

I usually push away.

A million questions

With no words

Inundate from the far ends.

On my northern section,

Where my eyes, like windows, sit,

Memories from the last few minutes.

The deep section of my mind

Bubbles up old memories from the distant past.

The top of my mind

The sky

Is almost empty

A clear, clean space.

What is here?

An open river?

With unknown whispers.

This is not living in the moment.

Now I hear myself

What do I say?

Can anyone tell me, decipher my feelings?

And words that ebb and flow

Constantly with no end?

No!

Only I can.

And yet I cannot.

How can I, a young woman

Of six and ten,

Decode my bare thoughts?

When others far older than I

Do not, cannot, and won’t even try?

All I can hear is loudness

An occasional word.

“See!” is suddenly exclaimed.

See what, where?

What do you mean?

Am I talking to myself…

Who can blame me,

When your own mind is made of mysteries.

But from the deep part of my chest,

Which, somehow, seems to hold in emotions.

The heart, a muscle, has my love and hope

Caged.

No, there is an opening to my mind.

Which pumps the feelings like water,

And pours it out unto my lips and actions.

It literally swells within me!

The lungs and ribcage are just bone and flesh

And cannot possibly hold emotion.

So if not these feeble things,

Then where do these feelings live?

In the soul it must!

Believe in something beyond the anchor

To this earth

And know, I feel it, inside me

That it is here and breathes!

I return to my thoughts and find abstractions

They are naked and curl away from my sight

Trying to fade into shadows and behind a wall.

I press my hands to the wall and push

Nothing happens.

There is a small hole between the brick

Light floods through, and I peer inside.

A universe that has no end

A God with no beginning

Questions my small mind cannot answer

Or even try to comprehend.

But now let us cool down

Form our philosophy,

And descend once again,

Into silence.

Listen, quietly.

To what God has to say

He may say it now, or later,

But if it is now,

You must be silent and listen. 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741