Inheritance

I have a way of folding into myself
like poppies at night
hiding
from the chill of reality.
This happens when all trust has faded
all goodness seems to flee
out of the pores in my skin
leaving my body to sit
on the branches of trees I pass
singing to me of what
I could have been-
all happiness abounds,
while I shrink further in my dry skin.

Some people loose faith in others
or god
or the future looms to great.
I loose sight of my feet
and hands fade from view
and suddenly
I've lost faith in myself
and am unable to laugh at the
sheer human-ness of my
crisis.

How many people have lived through
this plight?
This breathlessness that comes from
feeling not worthy.
Crowns are passed down from father to son
Mother to daughter,
but we also get their pain bound tight within,
one more attempt for redemption.

To walk tall and proud,
you must allow yourself to be worthy and
scream those words out
even when night has fallen and loneliness
is the only companion in sight,
I am worthy,
I am worthy and
laugh again at the silliness and pain
of being human.