POETRY: What Happens to You, Happens to Me

Imagine waking up in some one else’s body.

Strangers around you are trying to feed you

memories of who you apparently once were.

Doctors are convinced that you are suffering

from the worst case of amnesia mankind has ever known.

Unfamiliar places are supposed to be home.

A foreign lifestyle is being forced on you.

Something as simple as getting dressed in the morning

takes a heavy dose of mental soul searching.

                           What’s your style anyways?

Looking in the mirror is a lie.

A reflection that can never give you answers.

Be cause what you see is never how you feel,

And what you do is never what you mean.

I’ve been in a body that bends and breaks too easily;

Confusion causing earth quakes inside of me.

When lotion seems to dry out your skin,

Eating only makes you hungry again,

All your pockets have holes,

Jackets only seem to keep in the cold,

Your bed never feels comfortable anymore,

Sleeping alone is impossible,

And dreaming has become a chore.

Nothing works.

Nothing fits.

When being numb is no longer a choice but a reflex.

I understand what losing yourself must feel like

Especially when the search party has given in.

Being lost doesn’t necessarily imply pursuit.

At some point you must have know who you are,

How else could you identify the body?

So you pray for any piece of your peace of mind back.

You pray for your insecurities to be securely tucked away,

God,

Any form of confidence will do.

Take this overwhelming amount of doubt

And stick where the sun do shine.

He answers

“Lost”, is a relative term.

I’ve always known right where you were.

I refuse to lose you, I choose to use you

And I can reverse the maze you’ve constructed within your mind.

I’ll be like your flashlight app when you are feeling your way through the dark.

I’ll be the TV guide channel when you are scrolling for

something to keep your eyes on.

I’ll be GPS.

I’ll be road map.

I’ll fight for your discovery.

I’ll keep searching for your treasure

Even when the pirates have left the Caribbean.

I’ll keep looking for you through the glass

Even when Alice has finally wondered her way back home.

I’ll just keep swimming

Even when Marlin and Dori have given up hope.

To believe in God is also believing in the purposefulness of your own creation.

He believes in me.

I have to believe in myself,

And the fact that I was never really lost in the first place.