pushed into a corner of history
were born unto her
before she took her first breath
notions were dragged along her skin
in permanent ink
a map of where her life would go
respect was hers
as long as she stayed within the lines.
in the middle of an afternoon saturated with sunlight
my voice catches
pulling from the floor of my gut
are the words that refuse to be given volume –
to be given life.
when the light consumes me
i can forgive the quiet
it becomes a part of me.
it is in the shadows
that i am submerged in the noise
words clawing out of me
to be freed
from being stilled, silenced –
by all of that light.
I am shedding skin
pieces of me float away in an instant
like a match to tissue paper
to be taken away with the softest breeze.
i cry for answers
silently from the tops of mountains
snow-capped and untouched
the future – snow-capped and untouched
– feels as if it is being treaded upon
heavy boots printing patterns
across yet-to-be-defined paths
open and vast
stretches of something
i cry for anything
but my cries are lost
in a vast something, which was
once snow-capped and untouched.
there is no right future
or wrong past
or regrettable present
these paths we find ourselves on are translucent.
The molecules shifting in and out of physical realms
failing to maintain any kind of consistency we
can hold in our aching hands for
more than the fleeting moment it
takes to look over our shoulder, and
return our gaze to the front – only to find
the scenery has betrayed our memory.
I have decided not to look forward or
to dwell in my footsteps, but rather set my sights
inward where the path cannot dictate which direction
my life should take. Where there are no
shades of right or wrong or regrettable.
Only a moment.
Something I can trust.
Dragging cold graphite across balmy skin
never leaving its mark, too light to be seen with any contrast
Oh how the fine point curls and crawls
as it struggles to make an indent
Applying pressure, looking for a kind of proof
that will carry on
Showing, without a shadow of a doubt —
something was there.
Push me away
Pull me close
I have seen the storms
and the rain does
not wash me into the
river; I cannot be taken
off to the sea. I stand
where you see me, still
and stable – so that I can
tell you what it’s like to
be drenched to the bone,
and still find a way
to feel warmth in the sun.