Gut Punch

You know when you lose things –

It feels like a gut punch

As if breath is stolen from your chest

And what was once something that you could survive

Becomes heavy – a creeping black spider

Crawling over your struggling body

I think now is the time to rub that bruise

With aloe vera and tender fingers

Say to myself – I am worth gentleness

Compassion towards my body and mind

There are so many trips and falls

So easy to disappear in Wonderland again

But with thought and time

What felt like an adventure becomes a vortex of emptiness

Sad and dangerous days which were given false meanings

Perhaps that is not the most important part of my story

What if now, each day, each keyboard letter typed out

And pencil mark made on paper is what counts

The words will change, evolve, develop

If only I practise enough

To get out of the muddy ditch, look up and out

And stride towards making my words clearer

Sober, understandable – not just mumblings of mis-spent evenings

Tumbling, confused and distanced

Now is the time to unclench my guts and lay the punches to rest.