Early Spring Poem by Claudia Krizay

Spring seems to have come early this year- I have always welcomed blossoming flowers,
Longer days and the fresh warm air outdoors,
Perhaps the early timing exacerbated the fear, and is reminiscent of the
Time when my life took a turn towards terror and misery-
I saw a daffodil yesterday in full bloom- yet in the first week of February,
On that day, as in extreme frequency, my thinking was out of touch.

Today my heart is screaming, desperate for some peace and comfort,
While birds are singing outside as a gentle breeze blows as in a whisper,
Even trees are budding while everyone is laughing, although
My spirit is weeping as rage sears my gut, terrified of the world surrounding-

The pain of falling upon the hard ground this morning does not hurt me as much as
The agony I feel that emanates from all of the people that wish me harm-
Inside the world of my thoughts, everyone who is laughing is laughing at me- and
I would kill them all if I were not so afraid.

I am always shouting, though in silence at the cruel people that surround me,
No one can understand the severe pain of feeling persecuted every time that
I step outside and the inner irate confusion of
Not knowing what is real from what is not.

My heart and soul bleed anger and tears apart the person I am inside and
Even the gentle spring like breeze will not dry the tears I weep inside or outside,
I hardly know who I am anymore- the people in this world have threatened me and
As beautiful as all that surrounds me today- there is no place for me to hide.

The lone daffodil I see evokes a smile upon my face for the moment.
I would pick it and take it home with me but if I did,
It would wither and perish as has I believe my inner spirit has done,

Spring has always been my favorite time of year, although
Its arrival may be somewhat too soon, just as
I fear the death of my soul might have been premature-
I see myself as a lone flower that has blossomed in mid winter and
Is confused to be outside amongst shorter days, and barren trees,

If spring’s rain begins to fall my hope is that is shall wash away my tears and
Quench the flame that burns inside of me, then amidst longer days and that gentle breeze,
I can be as a bird, singing amongst other birds happy to be free of the rage that once
Separated me from the rest of the world as I lift my wings and fly high above the trees,
Looking down upon a world so exquisite which is no longer a threat to my existence?