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Your Emergency

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  • Your Emergency

    This is a spoken word poem I wrote for a friend in need.

    I think you may need reminding;
    I am not a friend who counts how many times you fall.

    I do not charge for every forklift after a bad day
    I am not keeping a tally calculating how many times I have made you smile,
    I fear you feel I am a ticket that is hole-punched after every use
    Never worry that when you need me, I won’t want to be available
    When you cry, I will answer

    I will be your 911
    Call when there’s an emergency
    When your heart is under attack
    And the malicious words of this Earth trap you in their clutches
    Let me draw you out of them.

    If everything bringing life to your lungs seems to halt entirely
    I will come quicker than an ambulance
    I will nurse you, until you are ready to stand on your own two feet again

    I have seen what isolation does to you
    How you turn shades of blue only oceans should
    I’ve watched solitude wrap its spiteful fingers around your gasping throat,
    Causing you to feel like life itself was ending
    I’ve seen you be consumed by hateful seclusion
    Watched you drown yourself in your own tears

    Let me be your lifeguard
    I fear you may need one
    Because your face is looking duller than the knives you are sharpening

    I know you feel like some assortment of worthlessness
    And I see you avoiding people like they’re dodgeballs
    Run from confrontation like its chasing you with eager teeth
    And sometimes late at night
    When peace has fallen unconscious
    My ears hear your sob’s desperate lament
    I will be waiting for your call

    But if the in your mind scream too loudly
    I will be your 911
    Because I can’t watch you suffer any further
    My embarrassed selfishness projects its desires onto your pain
    So when agony burns you, I feel the flame

    My acing body is too sore to continue this way
    Before you’re forcefully plunged on to the floor of rock bottom
    Before your obstinate legs refuse to carry you to any further misery
    Before your voice forgets how to produce anything but weeping
    Use your quivering fingers to pick up the phone
    Never worry that when you need me I won’t want to be available
    When you cry
    I will answer