Box-Spring Lover

Too hopeless to live out last night’s dream

Wrapped up in the arms of my box-spring lover

Its covers comfort this weary mind with soothing pillow talk

Velvety folds encase me in a thousand threads

 

My bed was once a springboard of sweet dreams undiscovered

I now see my bed as the Liar’s Lair

Where he whispers incessant sweet nothings

Telling me I’m but nothing

A counterfeit comforter to counterfeit the Comforter

Hopelessness leads to apathy as I feel the sheets tangling and tightening with each breath

 

Feeling suppressed by the incredible weight of goose down feathers

I push back the blankets with every intent to get up

Only to find soft, warm fabric snaked around my neck

Pulling me back into a sunken place

 

Outside of my room, I hear the calling

They are knocking to see if I’m still awake

Purpose, destiny, meaning

Do I meet the world at the door?

I was told once by someone I should rule over it.

 

The enemy lulls me back into bed trying to sedate the lioness within

If I can just get her to roar

The sound would clear the haze

It would even clear the stale smell in a room lacking life

 

Another knock at the door bids me awake

This knocking seemed different

The rapping held a melody so sweet

Who could that be?

Maybe they’ll just go away

 

Who would even stand at the door of my room?

Who would dare to venture in?

Do they know the state of this place?

How dank, how dismal, how dim?

“Come back later” I managed to call

 

Yet, again the sound resounded

Such a confident yet calming resonance

The hands that create the sound I envision being so strong

The gentleness of the tapping speaking volumes of love

The pause between each one reveals the lost art of waiting

Never-ending patience exudes from behind that door

A quality only one ancient of days could fully embody

 

The morse code of the knockings begin to translate into my heart

“Get up dear one, it’s not over.

I’ve come to wake you up

To bring you a life worth living

To turn your pain into purpose

Your dismay into destiny,

Madness into meaning.”

 

The message resonates, stirring my insides to consciousness

A newfound will emerges to leave the comforts of this padded prison

An invisible force animates my legs to hang over the side of my bed

My feet hover over the floor

Do I plant them firmly?

Do I walk to the door?

Kalan Jackson