When Comfort Calls (a poem)

//Laying on my white bed, I listened to the voicemail.

A friend talking sense and love and reason,

Things I couldn’t keep gathered in my own arms today.

I kept dropping them, like trying to hold a laundry load of socks

Me, tripping over them, as I climbed stairs,

All. Day. Long.

Some days the chemicals in my brain misfire, swirling in a strange cocktail of overanalysis.

My body responds in tension and pain

And the mystery of being a woman turns me inside out

Like a wrinkly shirt, arms knotted together, front button holes clinging to the wrong buttons.//

Her words were a balm to my wounded spirit, spread three feet in the air,

Maybe it was the blue of my bedroom walls,

But suddenly I was floating in the clearest blue pool

On my back, a girl again.

I closed my eyes and felt warm sun on my nose, wet hair swirling round my ears,

I leaned back, laughing,

When I opened my eyes, my dad was lifting my weightless body up and out of the water

And he threw me in a great arc.

I made a splash,

Went completely under,

Wet-faced with comfort.

She kept talking.

I laughed, crying,

Knowing I’d have to replay the message later

To hear what it was she said.

This post is part of the Five Minute Friday community. This week our one-word writing prompt is COMFORT.

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July 14, 2017