thick scaffold
Here’s what I know,
it’s called
I think
Feeling left out
There is a fancy word
People gave it a satin umbrella
And a Latin* nickname
And decided to call it autophobia
‘fear of being alone, isolated,
abandoned
ig
nored’
called attachment issues
emotional
sentimental
unnecessary
inability
to
control
one
self.
Here’s what I think,
its called wishing the world would
swallow you up
billow you between its folds
rock you back and forth
press you so hard you’d mix with the soil
become one
with the roots
till your nose bleeds dirt
and your veins turn to hollow stems
where sap runs slow and stubborn
and birds mistake your ribs for branches
till you forget
the sound of doors closing
because you have no walls to guard
only open
sky above
and the weight of roots below
till the earth learns your heartbeat
and you learn its silence
and
the loneliness
becomes a language
you no longer need to speak
and they will still call it
pathetic
spoken in greek
box it under fear of being alone
never knowing
I once became the earth
just to feel held.
