lake

i'm standing alone, and it hurts a bit
to realise there's nothing behind, ahead.
it hurts a bit, but that's just the start.
when i let it sink in, it wakes something else.
there's a quietness here, a softer place.
there's an emptiness i normally push away.
and the walls of my chest have become paper thin,
like some giant leaf,
with only delicate veins for the lines of my ribs.
a leaf that moves out so far as i breathe
that my insides feel too big to bear,
as if an enormous lake opens up in there,
washes up against every cell
so that each one glows with a sadness so clear
it could almost be joy.
whose pain is this?
this is much more than mine.
to this great empty lake the world floods in,
and now inside my chest is building a scream
that i'm not sure will ever come out,
a scream that's already three thousand years old,
that's seen everything broken that could have been whole.
and i'm old and tired, i've seen empires fall,
i've seen greed, inequality, mindless war.
the world is bleeding all over -
it has been so long.
i'm too soft in here
and the world rushes in.
it's bleeding all over
and i'm covered in scars,
and you started this somehow,
but now it's nothing to do with you.
it's something bigger i'm connecting to.
and i don't quite know how to navigate.