Yard Sale of Thoughts

How Can You Do it Alone?

I.

It’s easier alone.
Burdens square on your back.
Every time something heavy appears,
hunch a little farther,
cross the finish line
before you collapse.

II.

Grab hold of the rope,
your umbilical cord,
which connects you to your creator
amidst a frigid sea of insecurity.
You entered the world alone,
quarantined in your mother’s womb.
You held out your arms
not sure if there was anything to grasp,
and then a shivering first clasp.

III.

Simply put, you can’t.
Of course, there are periods of pretending,
rainbow chasing
after each downpour,
but you never make it anywhere
magical alone.
Best get out your lasso
and find a unicorn to ride.

IV.

You can do it only because
it must be done.
If you stop tilling
the stories rot alongside their owners.
You are the only farmer
in this scorching place.
Do it for those
who never saw sunlight.

V.

There’s no other way to do it.
The black and white letters
synchronized swimming
in rhythm with your mind,
and when you tilt your head to the side
to catch your breath,
see how far you’ve swam
from normalcy’s shore,
you realize you’re a writer now,
alone,
solitude forevermore.

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