I live days in defeat,
by my own mind
and the lies
it whispers to me.
But I have learned
to put my feet up
and rest easy
on those days.
For without that respite,
I could never dance
wildly when I live days
in the sunshine
of my victories.
He is a king among kings.
Though our blood channels
different currents, we collide,
and combust inside of eddies.
He is mine, as I am his.
Our roots planted on a summer day,
and fed with cakes, offered to children
who believed themselves, unloved.
Roots fertilized with the vomit
of whys and maybes,
What makes a man?
I used to watch him sleep,
that boy child, left
to fend for himself,
for us all.
Eyes like the moon,
bright and full
of questions, and sights
he never wanted to see.
What is the measure of a man?
At nine, shaking and pulling,
violence away from souls
he worked to keep sweet.
At eleven, tending wounds
and whispering soothing words
born in a mind far wise
beyond his years.
What does make a man,
the heavy step upon those weaker,
or the gentle hand upon the stepped?
He has been both, and a man
no finer I shall find.
He is a king among kings,
but I call him Brother.
What is this skin that I am in?
I no longer feel it as my own, for
it is not the same as it once was,
never what it twice was. The souls
that became inside of this skin left
long ago, and mine is lonely and
alone in this foreign place that
I know not to be mine.
HUSH written by Nicole Lyons, is a searing collection of poems that takes the reader on an emotional ride, through the tunnel of mental illness and reckless love.
Nicole Lyons’ voice undulates from pain to ecstasy, at breakneck speed. Erotic, soulful and authentic, Nicole has written a raw memoir encapsulated in poems. Stepping off the cliff, delving into HUSH, readers will find themselves breathless and wanting more. -Julie Anderson
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Tonight I will unpack my worries,
tuck them gingerly beneath my pillow
and lay my head upon them
so that they may feel safe.
When I close my eyes against
the violence of racing thoughts
behind them, perhaps it shall see
the red streaking the white of them
and know I have surrendered on this night.
As I sink down into the darkness,
strength drifts out and away from me,
to take first watch at my feet.
Don’t tell me that
there is no such thing
as hell when your shoes
are filled with heaven,
you have seen me struggle
with the weight of it.
Come and sit a spell
and let me drop hell
for you to look into
and we will see how quickly
heaven moves you then.
Our voices are powerful.
Our words hold energy, and when
we release them, we cast our energy
out in to the world to breach seawalls
and break borders. Make no mistake;
it will be our words that leave
the echo of our intent.
It is a great mystery that though the human heart longs for Truth, in which alone it finds liberation and delight, the first reaction of human beings to Truth is one of hostility and fear! -Anthony de Mello