Featured Poet - Carlee Moran
A NOTE OF UNCERTAINTY
I forgot a lot of what I said, what I felt.
I have come and gone, moved on, lost in thought.
Life always seems to catch you when you’re already out of breath.
I think of you less and less, that is, until something clicks.
For a moment, I remember and allow my feelings to drift back up.
They are hard to swallow.
So, I let it rest on my tongue.
Our memories are only mine to borrow, my subconscious keeps them lost.
Swimming in the darkness, I grasp on.
They remind me how I cared, how I loved, how I lost.
I told myself I had grieved you.
Perhaps it was a lie, but not one I knew of.
A lie like those you tell to children to keep them safe.
In real darkness, there are monsters, ones you make yourself.
Time does not heal or grow; it only warps you.
Through sneaks and slippery trips, it changes you.
My, how I’ve changed.
How your pain changed me.
Better for it, that, I am sure.
So don’t mind me if I let the pain roll back down my throat, into my vaulted sea, and drift away.
When it creeps back, I will let it in.
For feelings are meant to be free.
ABOUT THE POEM: This poem describes the complex nature of grieving someone who deeply hurt you. When their memory becomes present in your mind, it can be painful, but you must allow it to be felt for a time before closing your mind to it.
SISTER, LISTEN
Words cannot be understood unless you speak them aloud.
Feelings cannot be felt by someone else.
Understanding comes with patience, which we so little have.
Your heart may cry in desperation while thudding on broken glass.
Pain is relative, and while it feels others stride and you crawl, that causes misunderstanding.
Being torn in two, it happens often, and there will be a time when your legs fail you, so find your arms and let them carry you.
The world is not black and white; it is much more grey.
You would see if you learned to reason.
Harmful language comes from within; those around you beg you to see it.
Change has never been your strength, but explore it.
What is needed is waiting for you.
Growth begins when you accept and acknowledge.
Hold your peace, but it will keep you still.
Freedom is within the darkest parts of your soul.
Step forward, into the world you go.
ABOUT THE POEM: About the poem: This poem was written for my sister. It is the advice I wish she would listen to.
MIND DEMON
I find the vastness of silence unsettling.
The dark space it creates swallows me.
It is not good for an anxious mind, for false creatures lurk nearby.
Their cries fill the void in my ears, speaking true lies.
In time, I learn to make friends with the monsters and their lord, all to avoid the silence.
I sit at their table and share their food, believing in the world order they founded.
Their whispers clouded my judgment.
My bad.
In time, I learn the silence was my freedom.
Bought into the false hope and safety of their slithering tongues, there is no place to return to.
They are my shadow, copying my steps only a moment behind, with claws dug into my eyes.
I see what I am shown, I believe what I am told, I feel what they wish.
A prisoner in a ward built in my mother’s womb.
Rebellion aches in my soul, but my scripture avoids it.
Escape is a fool’s errand; they revel in my hope.
Return to their barracks with a match in hand.
Its small light is distinguished at the threshold.
They welcome me home.
ABOUT THE POEM: This poem uses monsters to describe how anxious thoughts can easily overwhelm and take control of your mind. By the time you notice and wish to break free, you have become too reliant on the worry cycle. This poem was written at a time when I began to acknowledge that my anxiety controlled me, but I did not have the tools to stop it.
WHEN WILL I KNOW MYSELF?
When the sun sets, where do I belong?
I’ve seen each corner of the world, and yet, my feet feel impatient.
They follow the speed of my heart.
Constant and frantic.
Where am I to go when everyone else rests in the darkness, but my eyes remain open?
If I could breathe among the stars, I would join them.
Earth is too confining for my unsteady head.
At least in the mountains, my soul takes a breath.
It exhales out my problem: that I will not know myself on the day that I die.
See, the monster in my head wins most of the battles.
It has since I was a child.
We’re neurologically entwined; we take the same pathways to arrive at different solutions.
My voice is not heard, not over the monster’s.
I am my own abuser.
Manipulate and gaslight until logic feels like water running through my fingers.
How can I know myself or where I wish to belong when my life is defined by constant battles in my mind?
I fit a criterion in order to survive.
Where it begins, and I end, I no longer know.
I cannot define myself without it, but I wish to.
It’s why my feet move quickly, trying to find a place where the stress subsides.
That’s where I’ll discover who I am, and the monster will no longer hold the power.
ABOUT THE POEM: This poem is about struggling with anxiety for so long that you feel that you no longer know who you are without it. It is the wish to rid yourself of it to find out who you truly are.
LET IT GO
Words that make me quick to anger.
‘Just let it go.’
As if the past years I spent healing amounted to such a simple thing.
Letting go of the anger clouding my eyes, grief drowning my lungs, and weight dragging me behind.
As if finding happiness again may only take moments.
For the days spent gasping between sobs in the shower may have been fixed by forgetting and moving on.
That giving my all for it to be ripped up in my face and stomped on had an easy solve.
All my pain…was it worthless and a waste of time?
Did I hold onto it unnecessarily?
Hurting when I breathe, how silly.
It’s no reason to feel broken.
For I can just let it go,
And forget all the memories my muscles still contract at.
When my hands shake, and my heart weighs heavy,
It’s still all my fault.
For I can simply, let it all go.
ABOUT THE POEM: This poem is for anyone who has been told to get over it or let it go. These are three words that people often hear when struggling with mental illness. They are the most infuriating words to hear. You do not have to, and often cannot, let it go.
RISING MOON
In the stillness and pale light, they flock to their windows to bathe in the quiet.
Some remain in their beds, their eyes very red.
While others drink tea and stare off into the distance, their minds far from the moment.
Each contemplates their life and existence.
The silence washes in their loneliness.
From my place up high, I recognize each of their sighs, for they all call me friend.
They misidentify that they are the only ones awake at night, praying that I’ll take them.
I’m aware of what my sister brings; her chaotic golden ray stings, but these creatures aren’t meant for me.
It is why I travel west at the end of each night, in hopes that she will reclaim them.
The poor souls’ ancestors devised a world in which they struggle to survive in.
Gone are the days of my light being the brightest to shine on the dark world.
May they all find peace, and in a few thousand years sleep; all will be back in order.
ABOUT THE POEM: This poem is from the point of view of the moon overwatching the sleepless.
ABOUT CARLEE
Carlee began writing poetry at age 15 to help her navigate her anxiety. Over the years, poetry became her outlet, supporting her through periods of intense grief, worry, and uncertainty. Her work explores the long process of finding yourself when anxiety and grief have held the wheel for far too long. She speaks to the complexity of learning to distinguish between feelings that are truly your own, and those that belong to the heavy experiences you carry. For most of her life, Carlee’s poetry has remained deeply personal and unshared. Now, she feels it is time to give her words a voice, with the hope that they will help others' deepest emotions feel heard.
E: carleedm@gmail.com
