That whisper says: you are not right.
I’ve spent years trying to trace that call.
Stomach acid? Something to eat?
pain, discomfort? tylenol?
trauma unresolved? ugh now I
can’t avoid the therapy.
Spiritual loss? call to repent?
Rootlessness, call to return?
Reminder of lost loves and homes?
Or a tiny broken synapse there,
a bit of missing chemical?
I cannot trace this awful call.
I cannot soothe my heart to drowse.
It wears me out. I cannot work.
I cannot rest. I can’t enjoy.
I cannot be a source of peace.
I cannot cannot cannot can’t
Maybe some day it will be fixed
and everything be strange to me.
New lenses in my spectacles,
a lightness in my chest and mind.
I can’t imagine what that might
be like. To know – that I am right.
March 2, 2021