This is a poem I wrote 10 years ago. Its a poem about the search for purpose and the paralyzing pain of not knowing it.

Niche

My bones want to melt

My muscles want to let go

My body wants to stop

Walking,

Struggling

Fighting,

for air,

for life.

My mind painted a picture for me,

But now it’s all in black and white.

The trees are bent, tired, closed.

My heart, the same

But still, my thoughts keep talking,

Walking,

Struggling,

Fighting,

For air,

For life.

How can you erase a picture so clear,

So real?

Tell me how to erase myself from it,

And lay, my own tired steps to rest.

I see

I’m stumbling,

Not walking.

I’m tripping now

Not talking.

There’s a pain inside my chest

Born of silence, grief, unrest

Who’s there but me to claim it?

Who knows but me to name it?

I’m sorry for my apathy,

My lassitude at dawn.

I’m circling now through forests

Trying to find my niche.

Has inspiration come to me?

Whose voice is it I hear?

My own is sharp and deafening.

Who else could know my name?

It is only through His kindness

That the heart can speak

When the mind and body

are numb,

Only dragging. 

Please come,

If only to quiet my thoughts.

I’m circling forests

On wings

Still searching for my niche.

I’m no longer

Walking,

Struggling,

Fighting.

I’ve won the air

I’ve won my life.