“I’m Ready to Go.”

Lines, no, cracks
in the walls—
all of them,
and the ceiling too;
the kind that morph
while you stare,
unaware,
drifting back and forth
from what was and
what can be.

I started packing
this morning, slowly,
still rigid with fear
that it will all start
folding in on me again,
drowning my voice,
shackling me to the past
like a stake and chain
for a dog.

It’s not that I want
to stay—I don’t;
The air here smells
like sweat and sick
and just a hint of desperation;
sunlight barely pushing
itself through five years
of rain scum
on the window panes.

Now there’s a curious
metaphor for sure,
the half-decade-old
film of forgotten responsibility
and lost opportunity
weighing me down,
causing the clown of bloodshot eyes and
rotten flesh to reappear,
a thick blanket of fear
wrapping around me, squeezing,
trapping my breath.

Last month, last year,
the last thousand years,
packed full of regrets
so heavy I spent most days
in bed or in my broken recliner.
If my vision were clearer back then
maybe I could’ve
recognized where I was—
then I would’ve been
(at least a little) more
likely to head to the door,

and flinging it open,
giving the sunshine at least
half a chance of falling on
my emaciated body, warming
my bones and clearing
my brain—which is, frankly,
a prerequisite to
freedom—victory from
the bondage of
self-deprecation.

No bother, though, because
I’ve been flexing my
heart lately, strengthening
my muscle of
hope now that I’m off dope;
shocked yet relieved that
I’m done with all that and
ready for this, whatever
this is—
I’m ready to go.

©2020 Steven Barto

These Pesky Grapes of Wrath

I stumbled.
Turning, I looked in the
Bathroom and saw the
Evidence.

Shower curtain torn,
Laying on the floor
In a pool of vomit.
Not again!

Powerless.
Not my favorite word
To say the least.
Sounds like, failure.

Small.
Sweet.
Fermented.
Steeped in brokenness.

Killer of relationships
Thief of dreams.
The mortar of excuses,
Able to destroy.

Yet impossible to
Resist
No matter the cost.
Regardless of consequence.

I know where it leads,
Yet I have no human capacity
To resist
These pesky grapes of wrath.

©2019 Steven Barto

“Hello My Name Is,” by Matthew West (Lyrics)

Hello, my name is regret
I’m pretty sure we have met
Every single day of your life
I’m the whisper inside
That won’t let you forget

Hello, my name is defeat
I know you recognize me
Just when you think you can win
I’ll drag you right back down again
‘Til you’ve lost all belief

These are the voices, these are the lies
And I have believed them, for the very last time

Hello, my name is child of the one true King
I’ve been saved, I’ve been changed,
And I have been set free
“Amazing Grace” is the song I sing
Hello, my name is child of the one true King

I am no longer defined
By all the wreckage behind
The one who makes all things new
Has proven it’s true
Just take a look at my life

What love the Father has lavished upon us
That we should be called His children
I am a child of the one true King