Hands Open

Things happen,
the winds change.
I am still learinigng
how to adjust my sails
and rigging.

But hey,
my ships is out on the open sea,
where it's supposed to be.
And it's been battered by storms.
The mast has been broken
and my crew has been washed
overboard once or twice.

But ships are meant for sailing
as life is meant for living.

And I am so
sorry I couldn't have been
there to help you.
I am sorry this has happened
again.
Life never fails
to capsize us
in our moments of triumph.

I need to help you,
every bone in my body wants to
see you survive and thrive
and smile.
People deserve that.
You don't deserve this.
And when I see you next
I will hug you and help you
and tell you how
beautiful you are
and how beautiful this life will be.

I want to help you get through
the storms.
Beccause we all need someone to do
that for us.
Climb aboard my ship
when yours is sinking
and we'll weather the storm together, dear.
I am here for you.

And last Thursday my psychologist asked
if we were done here.
What a critical impasse.
Am I better?
Is there a cure?
Oh no, no.
This I know.
Two days without my medication
and I am a mess.
But here I am,
on my feet.
With a trend in my mood which has led
him to believe we may be nearing an end.

But what about the creeping fear?
The suspicious feeling my gut holds
that whispers "this isn't over".
What about the winter
I am scared of?

Are we done here?

I won't know until I
walk off that edge.

But I won't be burning any of my past bridges
down just yet.

And again it's happened
the needing you.

The aching want
of your bones beside mine.

The dark and quiet
I wish we could have.

The burning of my lips
in their need for yours.

I'll burn up
like funeral pyre
with my love for you.