Hammered
Burdens borne are slow to lift
their weighted pall of resigned
acceptance that settles over
your bowed shoulders heavy
head wearied bones after the
struggling days of realization
grappling with bruising reality
that makes your face sag as
your skull grins boldly at the
world with its game face on
while your teeth chatter as
they utter platitudes of hope
and adjustment that fool no
one not even yourself for you
grit them as you bite the hand
of fate and that is how days
pass dreading what comes
next better you think to guess
there is worse to come for then
this will seem pleasant by the
laws of comparison so your
taut skin will not flinch under
scalpel blades that excise
your old self so you smile at
your scars and death will one
day be just an anesthetic
to knock out pain of days
spent dreading more of the
same so you barely notice at
first the shifting of the light
into a slow dawning of hope
as night’s bruise fades and
nightmare’s stitches dissolve
into the itch of routine as you
adjust to survival after the
strip-lit hell-glare of danger
and sense fear’s absence
in the night sky overhead
where stars no longer signal
splintered warnings from
their fractured shards but
reform familiar constellations
as your shattered self renews
its wholeness and refracts
their steady scintillating gaze
Kate Meyer-Currey lives in Devon. A varied career in frontline settings has fueled her interest in gritty urbanism, contrasted with a rural upbringing, often with a slipstream twist. Since September 2020 she has had over a hundred poems published in print and online journals, both in the UK and internationally. Her chapbooks ‘County Lines’ (Dancing Girl Press) and 'Cuckoo’s Nest’ (Contraband Books) are due out in early 2022.
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