American Chestnut
The American chestnut is long gone,
that doesn’t stop me from
hoping in its thunderous limbs.

I’m compassion; I’m not compassion.
It’s all
	clinging to thinkings, like: 
	how I think someone
        how I think I should be.
This is the me that pisses;
this is the me that reads Buddhist psychology;
this is the me that kisses you;
this is the me that thinks and thinks and thinks,
this is the me that places the revolver
to the roof of my mouth 
to silence the: "this is the me."
        This is the me that hasn't gone 
        the way of the American Chestnut –
        extinct.          Yet... one day at time
this is the me that survives hour by hour.
This is me that hopes you do too.

© SB Joy, 2022

I wrote this in 2017. I felt this yesterday. Some days, weeks and years, are harder than others. One day at a time. I am a testament to putting one foot in front of the other. Some days it feels impossible to survive. I get that, that was yesterday, that has been so many days and I am here, sharing with you. I hope to see you tomorrow.

SB Joy

One thought on “American Chestnut

  1. No Ho says:

    See you tomorrow!


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