In between

Oblivion was my nightmare and dream,
In the midst and through and across,
I had fears and hopes
Of losing hold and holding it firmly,
Of slipping casually and sticking there,
I have seen graves and grooves,
At the shore.
There’s some ruptures in the ebb and flow,
Some sea shells and stones alien like construction,
There’s this fidgety shadow of the closure of the day,
And of good hopeful things.

I am not sober.
And I have churned shells in my palm beneath, the heavy weight of my unconscious mind.
There’s blood and I smiled,
Because I was slowly getting hurt and better the next.
I had so much courage I spoke to the waves,
Which stared at me with challenge,
And that was just a hard phase,
For I had heaps of hopes.
The ocean had decided to wash the shore,
Wash it again, again
And again,
It washed away.

The grooves still exist and beneath it,
were sea shells and stones.
Differently structured reminding me of, confusions and delays.
Delay of a grooveless shore,
Of the cuts and wounds,
Reminders beeping of bitter things,
It is being washed away.
You are being washed away.
But your face has grooves and scars,
And it’s not like before.
You have left yourself in the middle of.
You are left alive,
little bit and bit more.

You are dying,
And you are charcoal ash dust,
This time you’re not the Phoenix.
You don’t have the stability of staying with one,
You fiddle between being and not being,
Between the beginnings and ends of sadness and happiness.
You are between.

– Yashi