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I can’t seem to get this last poem written.

I can’t finish this moment of destiny.

I thought I could finish it without crying big, lonesome tears, but it didn’t happen that way.



I can’t get the last poem written without seeing myself taking a brief hiatus from my marriage for this moment of time that I need to share but cannot because my hands are tied to my back and my tears don't matter anymore.



I can’t get this last poem written because life has to be a certain way.

I’m being asked to give up my dream, put it on hold like I have for everything else in my life.



I can’t get this last poem written because I have fought so hard not to be like my predecessor and yet in the eyes of some I am just like her.



I can’t get this last poem written because my heart aches and no matter how long I try and explain how important this is to me, it isn’t important at all.



I can’t get this last poem written because like every time before I am like my mother and am prone to putting everything else before this extraordinary occasion.



I can’t get this last poem written because my destiny is no longer my own.

My personal life’s dreams and goals are no longer part of the priority; it’s just not something most would or could really understand.



I can’t get this last poem written because in my mind I’m already slicing my wrists and dying the death I’ve felt for months now.



I can’t get this last poem written because as I have said before I have a lost identity and I am no longer myself.



I can’t get this last poem written because in the time it takes for me to write, there is time that I could be taking my meds and just terminating my life functions.



I can’t get this last poem written because just by my working on it seems selfish although it means something to me; they are more than just words on a page.



I can’t get this last poem written because I see the tears hitting the keyboard with every letter I type.



I can’t get this last poem written because like most important moments in my life I am alone and alone.



I can’t get this last poem written because I have no one to share the joy of finishing this book, and crossing this milestone with.



I can’t get this last poem written because although I have to make a small sacrifice of time it is no longer my time anymore.



I can’t get this last poem written because no matter what is done I come across as the bad guy, chasing a dream, something important to me and the opportunity to get it done right.



I can’t get this last poem written because I don’t have time to get it done tomorrow and things need to get done late tonight.



I can’t get this poem written because I sit here and think about all the time when I dreamed of this. The time when I wanted to be published, the time when I wanted to have the confirmation I was a writer, other than my own love and passion and now in this ordained moment there are just things I cannot do.



I can’t get this poem done because it hurts too much to know that I hurt my spouse but that I can’t communication why it’s so important to me.  Why this is something I have wanted my whole life.  Something I’ve been working towards since I was a young child. Singing and writing have always been my passions and now I can’t share this moment,

Tonight to say, you know this is the first time I’ve gotten instant feedback and it has been wonderfully great.  I needed it to feel like me again, to feel alive.



I can’t seem to get this poem written because life is a circle and the Egyptian part of me keeps beckoning to the other side of life, calling for the death of me, asking for the grave.



I can’t seem to get this poem written because deep inside me the shaman knows there needs to be healing, the mother knows the child within is crying, the soldier did not accomplish the mission and the writer knows it may end, but would not be complete.



I can’t seem to get this poem written because it is the final one.  The last page of the book. The last few words someone will read about me and it just happens to fall on a anxiety filled day where I have spent most of my day reconfirming that I have PTSD and it sucks more than words can ever describe.



I can’t seem to get this poem written because in my mind I see you there staring at this last page wanting to know if I am okay?  Does this going in and out of moods happen often?  Am I depressed or just neurotic?



I can’t seem to get this last poem written because I feel like I’m in a battle of wills being pulled this way and that, being pushed this way and that like a ping pong ball, or to quote Sir Elton John “like a candle in the wind, never knowing who to cling to when the rain set in.”



I can’t seem to get this last poem written because I want it too bad.  I want it to be perfect like I’m perfect, but truth be told I am way beyond perfect.  I am just a writer who loves words and contrary to days when I’m depressed or feeling bad, loves life.  I love my spouse, my marriage, the Native American part of me, and even the call to ministry part.



I can’t seem to get this last poem written because I realized I have opened myself up to you. You have seen parts of me my family didn’t know about until now and things only true friends and lovers were privy to.



I can’t seem to get this last poem written because although my head is pounding and the sun went down on my anger I still need to ask for forgiveness and if I leave this poem with nothing else.  It is to share that true love has its ups and downs but communication is key in any marriage.



It didn’t seem like I could get this last poem written, but through faith, understanding and love it is done.