domestic llama 

Every night I’m awoken by a train.

The sound of the horn shakes and rattles my brain
My restful moments are stolen from me.

As I lay in bed I contemplate

And dread wells up with in me

Am I asleep or awake?
So many moments throughout the day I feel the same.
I swear I can feel that train when I’m 20 miles away.
That train is coming fast down the lane and I can’t help but blame it for the moments I feel faint.
Awake i mediate.
Am I doing something of importance ?
Is anything I am of significance ?
I’m trying to change myself everyday.
To live and love in a better way.
But sometimes I’m just a thorn in the side of those around me.
A terrible discordance I feel.
What an unpleasant dissonance that I hear.
As the tracks rattle inside my mind I feel my connections growing slim.
It would be so much easier to isolate than to continue to berate the ones around me.

In repose I ruminate.
Can my words change a thing?
Could my voice be of use at all?
Can my love ease the sting?

Or is my existence on this rotating mass nothing more than a rattling of tracks and the fracturing on the future and the past?

The horn sounds again
And I’m brought back to place I’ve been before.

Reminded that I am awake.

Reminded that I live the way I choose.
I do know what I’m working towards.

allow me to explain,

Everyday I’m with the ones who’ve been taken advantage of.

Abused and neglected.

It’s Trauma. What a bitch.

I’m dealing with it’s all to devastating self actualization.
For every second I feel a success there’s the sound of rattling as a train of something less is making its way toward me.
And just as the only thing that rhymes with trauma is a useless domestic llama, the only thing I can do is get in front of the train.
That’s certainly going to cause some pain.

This train has left me with contusions and bruising.

I’ve got fractures and a lack of insurance.
Is this a good enough look inside my brain?
Can you hear the train?
As I sit here and write another one comes down the tracks. Sometimes I feel like I should start to pack.
But I know I won’t.
I’ll stay.

I’ll take the sound of the train and I’ll do anything to help heal the pain.
I’m down on myself, but awake in the midst of the pain and the all to familiar sound of it’s train.

That’s the funny thing about doing something everyday.
Soon it becomes the only way. 

4 comments

  1. Reply

    Something beautiful I am realizing only now, after a lifetime of fruitlessly trying to change myself, is that we cannot change ourselves. Not ultimately. The only way to be changed for the better is to draw close to Jesus and ask God to make us more like His Son. Then God can do the changing. We may not even be aware of it. But as we focus on Jesus, we will become more like him. Whatever we focus on, we tend to become.

    I identify with the pain expressed so eloquently in your poem. And I love the connection between the trauma and llama rhymes. Keep writing.

    Like

    1. Reply

      I’m sorry the font was small! On my screens it appears a normal 12 point. I’ll look into it to see what may cause it to be small on other screens. I’m glad you enjoyed it!

      Liked by 1 person

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