How I got my soul back

as I held onto the wall I almost poured out my entire soul until he stopped me
as my conscious came to the understanding
that I had lost the woman that had birthed me
he tried to make eye contact with me
trying to tell me that I should not cry like that
that I should remain calm

as he held my arm and slowly brought me back to my new present
I did not even have the strength to get his hands off of me

as we were leaving the only thing I could feel was the cold
my lips were cold from the last kisses I gave her

it took me a long time to get my soul back from the brink of death
it took me a long time to feel anything else but the cold
for a long time I found a home within the loss and no one knew how to reach me
for a long time I only felt death while my legs kept moving aimlessly here on earth

Now I am here to tell you how I got my soul back.

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Buddy Wakefield

This is poem that I wrote today after watching Buddy Wakefield
perform “Guitar Repair Woman” in London.

You said that you haven’t seen your mother in over 16 months.
As I watched the alcohol soak into your heart I wanted to say:
“I haven’t seen my mother in over 6 years
and I will never see her again in this life. ”

What will you do Buddy
when the woman that made you live
will be taken away by the night?
Did you know that at night
our souls dances between this world and the next
That yes our bodies finds rest at night
but our souls.. well they fight and ooh they fight

What happens when she isn’t yours no more but of death?
When she has taken all your trust away
and all that’s left is you.
When you’re all alone, hyperventilating
trying to steal the air of the ones who do have mothers.
Will you crumble? Will you die?
Or will you try and go through the 5 stages of grief?
Or will depression take away your soul
and leave your legs behind to move aimlessly in this world?

Mothers they have that thing,
that urge to be there for you
whereas others they will grow tired of you

In the end you may  learn to settle or worse learn to trust yourself.

Buddy how is this going to end?

Our dream

Tomorrow is more important than my wedding day
even the day I selfishly will become a mother.
Tomorrow is the day I thank my mother for her dream.
Tomorrow I’m going to walk on to that stage
take that blank piece of paper and cry.
Cry, that I was blessed to have had you for 16 gorgeous years.
Cry, that when everyone else will have their parents in the audience
I have my mother in heaven giving me all the blessings.
Cry, because with my heart I will write down
your beautiful name on  that blank piece of paper
and let them know my mother achieved her dream.
A dream of independence and her firstborn gave her a hand.

This paper belongs to you