I suppose its true that the greatest suffering stems solely from attachment

And yet I take a breath and hold it, then brace myself for my entrapment

I faint from lack of air and my thoughts escape their guarded chamber

And as they wander to the past, I find they’ve never been quite tamer

Here, my soul exhales relief, for finally I am home

Memories play in real time and I no longer feel alone

To whom does find my body, I beg you not to give it breath

For to do so would suffocate my soul, which is far worse than physical death

I glorify these memories, a martyr to delusion

An urgent beckon to awaken feels like an intrusion

I’ll burn this place to ashes, with my own body before I’d leave

The sense of here and now dare not take this place from me

I suppose its true the greatest suffering stems solely from attachment

And yet I take a breath and hold it, then brace myself for my entrapment

For with the past I’ll gladly burn, my soul going up in flames

To finally escape this chamber that has long been bound by heavy chains.

 

 

*Written about my attachment to my old friend Andrea and how suffering as I sit in the memory of our friendship causes me pain but I’d gladly endure it to relive them all again. It’s the only place I can go now to see her. So when people tell me not to worry about her or that I talk about how I miss her too often, I rebel against that very practical logic. Poetry is my way of immortalizing our bond.