lightning || a poem.

live recording of poem.

last year, I got the pleasure of coming to inspired poet, and I heard a poet speak. and one of the things that she said was that we need to use our voices even if we’re afraid and even if it’s just a whisper. and I have a friend and mentor who has told me that I have something to say. and in our first session, my counselor told me, he reminded me that nobody has everything together.

these are the things I want to tell you. and this is my whisper.

________________________________


here is the finished product
on fluorescent light display
you can see all the right brushstrokes
from behind a measured line
put on a platform because
this is finished, i swear
it is perfect
        perfect
        perfect
a masterpiece on display because
i know all the right places to
hide. it is easier to
hide. it is safer to 
hide behind layers of dishonest truth
i am okay
         okay
         okay
a lie told often enough becomes the paint


i brush on layers of half-truths until they turn to hues of
this is too good to touch
don’t cross this line
you will damage the image so carefully crafted
you will see what this impressionist courage is made of
layers of afraid
                afraid
                afraid
and i am dying
for these lights to go out.

_________


one time, i almost got struck by lightning
pitch black storm floods white
electricity strips away every hiding place i told myself was
safe. exposed and drowning
in the downpour i am surrounded by thunder
screaming shame
                    shame
                    shame
and i can’t run away

so i stand up under spotlights and say
look at how far i have come and
you won’t see how far i have to go
you won’t see through these white-washed walls
you won’t see the water in my lungs

_________ 


please don’t interrupt to
tell me it’s okay
i’m not
okay

_________


i live on the tip of my tongue
walking on eggshells
no one else can see
i can’t—
there’s never—
words are—
i’m not good
with words
i leave them sitting in my mouth
until i can’t swallow
and they all spill out until
i’m drowning in my own
worst nightmare

_________


my hands have been shaking for two years
a physical symptom of fear
an acute reminder if i am still 
for a single moment i am not 
safe i wish i was
safe. what is it like to be
safe when everything falls apart?

i am reaching out to flip a switch
to rewrite the script
to get a grip on something that will
make these hands more than
measure of what i fail to fight
but my fingers slip and I

lose control for one second but maybe
broken glass is louder than a voice i can’t bear to
raise and this black and blue paint
screams louder than my whispers
and maybe if you see the edges you can say
it’s real
      real
      real
do i even know what’s real?

_________


when you breathe in, you get
oxygen and everything else
gets filtered out, exhaled
sometimes i think i can’t do that second part
i breathe in too deep
too quick
i get oxygen
and everything else

i have all the right answers
and everything else
every thought louder than the truth
every urge to punish the one at fault
this is all my fault
after all, i should have
thought of that eight months ago
because by now it is too late
how can i fix the problem
when the problem is me?

_________


i wait for answers 
like the moon waits for sunrise
lost in the return of light 
that’s only ever reflected
maybe i was always meant to be a
mirror

in these broken shards
i will finally see
i will finally hear
i will finally believe what’s
true.

_________


my hands have been shaking for two years
but i will not stop using them to
write until I see
the light of dawn
to paint in permanent ink
you are enough
i am enough
         enough
         enough
and worthy of love anyway.

_________

what a night.