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This writing was accepted for publication in the
108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book
Lost in America
cc&d, v269 (the March 2017 issue)




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Lost in America

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in the book
Things Found
in Books

the cc&d
July-Dec. 2016
collection book
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Jan.-April 2017
cc&d magazine
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On a Rainy Day
(the 2017 poetry, longer prose
& art collection anthology)
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Starlight

Bonnie Lambeth

Every time I hurt I survive.
This time shouldn’t be any different.
I’ve sang this song before,
I’ve done this dance before,
yet these emotions are still
so raw and this wound still bleeds
I forget that I’ve been through this
routine before,
it feels like my first
depressive swing all over again.
It’s the same redundant routine -
I WILL get past this round of hurting
just like every time before,
but like my previous matches,
I’m doubting my resilience.
I have the pieces of
my shattered psyche
broken up into millions
of pieces by these turbulent swings
resting in my hands
shards so sharp they’re
cutting into my skin
my palms are bleeding.
This swing has packed quite a punch
my spirit has been beaten
beyond recognition.
It certainly feels
like I’m dead inside -
HoweverÉ
unlike previous rounds
with Depressive Bipolar,
I noticed something new this time.
upon closer inspection
I see a tiny spark
at the center of my soul
still sparking up a storm
under all this emotional debris-
if I can just find a way to
reach it
I can reignite these flames again.
But how?
I’ve checked my surroundings
so many times for solutions
my eyes are worn out.
It’s time to look somewhere else.
When I can’t figure out an answer
on land,
I direct my gaze up to the stars.
Everything on our planet Earth
holds at least
a small percentage of the
particles left behind by
our Universe’s stars,
including me.
I often feel them move around
my insides,
bumping into each other
bouncing off the walls of
each organ.
Perhaps that’s why
I thrive in starlight.
When I’m beneath a
clear night sky in summertime -
I feel a sense of dejavu -
Maybe there’s a piece of my past spirit
resonating on a celestial body
millions upon millions of years away
but when I’m looking up in the
right place at the right time -
it’s able to call out to me to say hello
and reconnect just for a brief moment.
So here’s a thought:
I feel so safe conversing with my stars
why not fill these cracks from my hurting with their remnants?
Time to cast my net out
into the midnight abyss-
fishing for the dust my stars
leave behind.
I can take these shards in my
bleeding palms
rearranging each piece into
emotional constellations
filling the cracks
with a sturdy mixture of
molten silver and the stardust
I’ve collected,
creating a
sparkling masterpiece with
a celestial silver lining
carefully stored in
the golden rims of my irises.
I’ll take the dust of the things
I love the most
mixing it in with
the rest of me,
to create another
source of starlight than
just the sky -
now I have a source of starlight
coming from within myself as well.
Now I hold a psyche composed of
broken pieces held together
with a celestial silver lining -
I don’t just thrive in the starlight.
I thrive in just being myself.



Scars Publications


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