Something's Going On

Something Going On

Something is going on in me

I cannot name,

not sickness, not sorrow exactly,

not joy by its own bright flame.

It moves like weather under skin,

like a door left open wide,

like a hand I cannot see but feel,

resting just beneath my skin.

I try to shape it into words,

but words slip loose and thin.

It is a tide with no moon shown,

a silence humming in side me and my mind and body.

And somewhere deep, beneath it all,

a secret I can’t tell—

locked behind my heartbeat

where only shadows dwell I dare not tell.

Not broken, no, not bent,

yet altered all the same

as if some hidden part of me

had answered to a name.

And though I cannot tell you what,

I know it’s here, it stays:

a mystery with a heartbeat,

passing through my days .