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Death Rattle Not of Breath

by Sadee Bee


My bones are scraping at my skin / my muscles beg to be unraveled /

stretched out across miles / only to soothe the ache /

Unzip my skin / hang it out to dry after a deep scrub /

When my skeletal being is free / take my brain / rinse it in

cold water / perhaps in the flowing chill of a spring /

Some days / a shower does not feel like enough /

Take my organs / cleanse them gently with lavender

scented soap / let my skeleton lay / unencumbered by

the meatiness of my body /


Flesh is thick and heavy / the mass of thousands of cells /

Burdening my bones / they snap and crackle under the strain /

Like a death rattle not of breath / but of weariness / of my insides begging

to be clean / let me take a deeper breath / when my ribs aren’t

in the way / fill them with pure clean air / I long to feel what

my first true breath felt like / Before my humanity added weight /


If only I could wash the years away / take my body apart /

Piece by piece / find the sickness and pluck it out /

Pop every air bubble between my joints / untie every knot from

my muscles / Scoop the painful thoughts from the wrinkles of my brain /

replace them with seeds of Lily of the Valley /

Sew myself back together / refreshed and renewed /

Smelling of fresh lavender and spring water / with flowers

of happiness springing in my skull /

 

About the author:

Sadee Bee spent her time creating her own stories both on paper and in life. Diagnosed in her early twenties with Bipolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, and C-PTSD; she spent a long time trying to make sense of her own world and mind. Poetry, personal essays, and occasionally fiction have been an outlet for heavy feelings and past traumas. Sadee uses her work to shine a light on the hidden parts of mental illness and the effects of childhood trauma. She also speaks about her specific experiences regarding trauma and mental illness as a Black, Queer woman in Black spaces.

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