No Recourse

You think I don’t know
What you’ve contemplated
What you’ve done?

That I’m not capable
Of slicing your hate
To hair-fine ribbons?
Of crushing your lies to
Powder-fine dust?

Did you hear
My dejected howls
And think my words
Were pillowy soft?
Or repeat them aloud
To find they tasted
Treacly sweet but
Stuck in your esophagus?

I always thought
Justice and
Freedom
Were only meant for those
Waving painted paper fans
For those who keep the
Depraved scent of their actions
From overpowering their
Dainty nostrils
As they cross to the
Opposite side of the street
Avoiding those who they've
Stripped of dignity

I remember now
Your words
Your deeds
The gaps in your
Wool white teeth

I can dissect your lies
To the marrow
Sew your fairy tales
Tight at the seams
Stitched with letters
Narrow and sharp
Stabbing the anchor in
Bone deep

I've reconnected the
Fraying ends of my soul
With polymers synthesized
From seething upheaval
I can’t rightly find the
Picture proof
Nor pinpoint the day
You stole my
Limiter and youth

Now, I sit
Calmly meditating
Keeping all motion in check
Trying to force vision and emotion
To a freezing stop
So I can rest

If I allow it to
Excite or explode
I may never return
To my peaceful abode
I can feel the searing pain now
Rising from the
Tips of my toes

Grief threatening to roll
Like a pyroclastic cloud
Enveloping the mountain
I stand upon
Billowing and expanding
Until my cries of lamentation
Have faded and gone
With each exhalation
I blast a copse of trees
A family of bears
A flock of geese on the wing
All before me
Incinerated the instant
I called to mind the
Past I left behind

You may have won
In your own estimation
So I will go to my grave
Blasting fire from
Blackened lungs
Painting the truth
Into the setting sun

K.B. Silver

Currently, I'm doing well with my mental health and the process of memory recovery. Unfortunately, whenever new memories surface, I get lost in them. I lose days, weeks, or in some cases even months. I feel disconnected from any sense of safety or hope. Thankfully, they have been getting shorter and less intense. With any luck, there will come a day when there is either nothing left to remember, or I have healed enough for my mind to stop searching.