In some ways, it’s already yesterday.
I don’t know how I made it.
I got buried.
I dug in. Got dug out by people I dig.
Pulled out by people I love.
Why do people get buried?
Wake up one day and for one year, more.
Buried.
More. It gets scary.
Everyday, being buried.
Surrounded by so much love,
You know it.
But you know knowing isn’t feeling.
Feel it?
The worst feeling is not feeling it.
I got buried.
I don’t know how I made it.
If I’ve made it,
Yet.
I don’t bet against me.
Or you. People who stay true.
They’ve been buried.
They say it builds character.
I’m surrounded by characters.
Seen both sides.
If you haven’t dug in, been pulled out,
Lost it, been buried, knew and not felt
New feelings they told you about –
I’ll just never understand.
No envy.
It’s so hard and it happens
And we make it and
It’s worth it.
We’re heroes and we don’t know it.
We feel it.
The strongest people I know
Got thrown back to getting buried.
Too many times.
You’re moving, they’re dying, leaving,
Driving, flying, work’s crazy, more driving,
You’re lost and found.
Buried at the bottom of the lost and found.
Your heart pounds.
Your heart beats so loud,
It keeps you from sleeping
And there aren’t enough hours or days
To do everything and nothing at all
And you just
Want
To
Sleep.
Dream of when it’s over.
Settles down.
Feet back on the ground.
And it happens.
Somehow, it happens.
People (you) pull you out.
Pushed them all away
And think you’ve gone insane, then
It gets clear and they’re all still here.
‘Happy you made it.’
Nothing ever makes sense,
But somehow it happens.
You wake up.
Mirror, own eyes, realize,
Open up, appreciate love you’ve found.
It surrounds.
You love how it all sounds
And it’s loud.
And you’re proud.
And that’s allowed.
No lights and it’s bright
You know? You feel it?
It feels like just yesterday
And you’re humbled.
In some ways, it’s already yesterday.
You don’t know how you made it.
You got buried.

At least that’s how I felt.
Partially buried, now, myself.

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