Miscarriage

I took the time to search myself 

to free me from a deepening canyon; 

I was all too lost to be a victor.

 I had drowned myself in other people,  

I wanted to be like them- 

nomads,  

lost in a modern era of
stagnant ideologies
and a juxtaposition called life  

So I raced to the end of what faceless humans handed me 

I choked on their diplomas

 regurgitated formulas 

analyzed what had already been 

just so I could please the plenty

 then disappoint the few 

who thought I was different- 

because dream-chasers

 and nightwatchers 

are children of the sky 

who use it as a cover 

to  resurrect the promise buried 

by redundant dead end jobs 

and cramped office spaces

I write to apologize

 to every version of me 

who didn't make it 

because I murdered them-  

still born- 

in the process of dreams: 

the pilot 

the doctor 

the architect

 the painter 

the wife of the hypocrite prophet 

Beethoven's mistress 

the dreamer 

the pianist t

he violinist; 

the death certificate is heavy with their names- 

a miscarriage is never easy to swallow. 

 I promise,

 one day 

I will shed my armor 

and no longer be the terminator of my dreams 

one day 

i will carry full term the pain 

like a nine month promise turned to joy, 

one day 

my dreams will not scare me 

and I will step out of the skin they created for me,  

one  day-

 because 'One day' 

is any day

with a new name. 

With Love, SylJoe