Showing posts with label Healing Hermann Hesse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Healing Hermann Hesse. Show all posts

8/26/17

Healing Hermann Hesse - Buddy Wakefield

Hermann wants to eat nicotine sometimes. He asks
for a lot. He paces space to make himself nervous
because some people are better at surviving than
living. If you wanna get heavy he'll teach you. He
knows it. Spends his time falling from the weight.
Got a lead brain. It's a battle magnet. He carries it
around by the guilt straps. Don't laugh. You didn’t
see the size of the blizzard that birthed him. Fits
of snow. Cotton rocks. Whipped white bullet stretches
pinned with chips of teeth to his habit of crying for help.
He doesn't land well. Hates landing. It reminds him of not
living up.

Listen.
I know there were days you wanted to die.

Days you misplaced all the right words then waited
to make sense once everyone here stopped watching.

Nights you let them beat up your body in bed
because redemption was still alive in you howling.

Uncompromising.
Gathering strength.

Happiness
is too far to fall.

Felt like ecstasy
when they pounded it out of you.

Those days of dead weather high strung out together
and spoke for you.

You told everyone here it was a good life,
smiled and waved back into the wails of your wind fight,

into the parts of the past that haunt you,
all the days you weren’t being yourself.

It’s why most of the past
still haunts you,

Milk Worder,
Mr. Self Murder.

Hiding is not an option for people
so good at showing up. You show up.

It is okay that you showed up missing.
We’ve all abused ourselves

then looked over
the wrong shoulder about it.

Call it Fatherlock.
You were picked like this.

I know you hate the hope.
It’s all the hope that makes you stay.

And you stay so far off the ground.

Hermann will not bow down to gravity. Falling
he catches up to himself midair just before the ground
smacks. Pullthroat, they call’im. Sharp turner. Nothing
touches the ground here.  Ground is at capacity.
He sees that. He falls back. He patches parachutes
together with a kite knife.  It's big enough to raise him
in the updrafts where he hides himself away in angles
of air outlined by his knack for believing that this life
is gonna work itself out.