“View yourself the way
God sees you.”

That’s what my wife
Often preaches,

But accepting my soul
Isn’t comfort.

Actually,
It hurts even more.

She thinks heaven
Can challenge these lies
About worth
Or success too elusive
And fleeting like days
I have squandered
Finding wisdom in pain
Now instead –

These remembered wars
I endured
With multiple lives
Long behind me,

And people I loved
Among memories
Haunting each dream
I’d forget

When the hurt would build
During nights
Such unfortunate ghosts
Turn upon me,

Creeping through thoughts
Writing verses
Without paper or pen
At my side.

Quietly,
I suffer my sins,

Feeling symptoms
Consuming this body –

Eating at faith
Always trying
To fight those deaths
Coming soon.

They tell me
My mind is to blame,

Mere anxiety,
Just nerves without courage –

Sensitivity,
An acquired weakness
From believing this world
Murders hope.

Can anyone prove
That it won’t-

Killer plagues
And racists in power,

Capitalist pigs
Selling answers
Even Satan himself
Thinks are wrong?

They exploit us
With every exam,

Our doctor’s touch
Silent judgment

Against fearful hearts
Growing desperate

Facing demons
Blamed somehow on them.

I’m numbered,
A person made sick –

Begging for help
Where aid falters,

Hearing loved ones
Criticize blindly
As breathing
Gets harder each time.

What’s left
Is no vote of confidence,

Letting parents
And friends I call strangers

Mock this man
Still childlike –

Penniless,
Sexless, and numb.

I guess that means
Being beaten
Is the man upstair’s
Way of healing –

Through His graces
Reminding me daily
Some dumb words
Shouldn’t be said.

Poems
Are my last attempt
At finding air
Despite choking.

After all,
Many have told me
I’m not an “emotionally
healthy guy.”

• J. Pigno