Vulnerable

N.B. Excuse me for a second, I really need to let this out or I am not going to get to sleep tonight. Sometimes, I just feel like everythings building in my subconscious and the only way to get it out is to write something. And so I write and I write, and eventually, words form together, and after a while, I carry on writing odd thoughts, whatever words pop into my head really. And thats how most of my poems come about.

I realised today that although some people think I am fairly open on here, a lot of my emotions I don't show, because I choose to write about them somewhere else, and only really spiritual or good things make it onto this blog. But thats not only what my journey has been about - and thats what I wanted this blog for, to record the journey of faith I was starting in Southend. There are times when I feel rubbish, and have failed. Times when I am struggling, when I am annoyed, or upset. Like tonight. After returning from a really good dinner, some things stayed in my head that I had been talking about that I realised actually bothered me a lot more than I let on. Part of building relationships is being vulnerable to people. Letting people in. I'm generally not so good at letting people in. My head is full of all kinds of things which I keep closely guarded under lock and key the majority of the time. But here is a chance to get inside my head. Enjoy it while it lasts.

I am torn
And inside, it hurts
Have two opposing courses of action
Ever seemed so far from one another?
Has a single moment, in all its glory
Ever truly made the distinction between
Hope and sorrow?
I am lost in the darkness
And through each little thing
That builds to this crescendo,
Slowly devouring my spirit,
I cry out, can anyone help me?
I know that someday,
This might put an end
To the way things have become.
And that knowledge, that conception:
It kills me
And I cannot stop it
Things have moved beyond my control
I am a spectator, a predictor
I have seen this all before.
But I am powerless. A weak bystander –
Soaked by the rain of bitterness and betrayal
I want to help.
But I cannot.
I am a failure: a mockery
A mere shadow that haunts the past
A scar that remembers the wound
Can ever one person mean so little?
I have failed you, dear brother.
And I am so very sorry.

Ami Wager © 2008