Recovery Poems

Springtime Blossoms

Growth,

Rebirth;

These are the two most commonly associated terms with the season of Spring. 

Perhaps, 

In a lot of ways I suppose,

It is true for me as well;

Ironically these terms not only resonate with my current emotions,

my current emotions are happening in the springtime. 

But,

when the season of Spring is cast upon us,

a series of storms take over;

on,

and off,

seemingly never-ending. 

That is,

until,

the first blossoms of late April begin to bloom.

There are these moments,

in between the growth,

and the rebirth,

that I feel like that oh-so-familiar storm cloud is hovering over me again;

pelting down such heavy, 

pain filled droplets of water,

that I can't help but feel as if I am beginning to drown. 

Much like my moments of happiness, 

the sadness comes arbitrarily. 

No large significant event or loss,

nor any heart broken;

just weight. 

It's like when I wake up in the morning, 

there is a cement block on my chest, 

and a cumulonimbus cloud floating around my brain. 

I feel no happiness. 

I feel not one scrap of hopefulness. 

I feel,

nothing: 

This emptiness,

a void,

it overwhelms me to the core,

and it becomes the center of my focus. 

And I find it absolutely intolerable. 

That feeling of being numb,

it petrifies me. 

I become so desperate to feel something,

anything,

that I have, in the past, given myself away to achieve any emotion. 

Whether it be drugs,

alcohol,

sex..

But then;

I wake up.

It is the next morning,

a new day,

and I can breathe again. 

I walk down the petal-covered pathways to class,

blossoms from the trees surround me and overwhelm my senses. 

They come in many shades;

magenta, peach, lavender. 

Their scent, 

the sight of these small flowers, 

despite the fact that they will soon fall from those trees and die,

brings to me those feelings of growth, and rebirth. 

For,

in truth,

a part of me died in February. 

A part of me I can't get back. 

But, 

that part of me that got stolen and demolished, 

it was only cut, 

not torn. 

That root still lies there beneath the surface; 

Giving my heart the ability to grow again;

and be reborn. 

Only this time, 

my heart is much stronger.