It is a hard thing, when a mind creeps and wanders
and everything you want to say comes out
as everything you have sworn you wouldn’t.
It is a very hard thing when a mind,
so full and so bright, turns in on itself
and darkness feels like home again.
It is a hard thing when life turns cold
and those who have always kept you warm
have locked you out in freezing rains
to numb yourself to their own numbness.
It is a hard thing to trudge, to keep your mind
and body as whole as splintered can be,
through rapid-fire thoughts of harm and goodbyes.
It is the hardest thing to reach for strange
hands once familiar, to hold and pull hope
from within their warm palms.
It is a hard thing, but it is worth more
than everything in the end.
© Nicole Lyons 2018