You don’t have to
make your art a window
if you don’t want to.
It doesn’t have to be
transparent enough
for others to look through
and see your naked soul.
If you prefer,
you can make your art a mirror:
still honest and clear enough
for folks to look into
and see their own beauty and suffering,
reflected.
But opaque enough
to protect the parts of yourself
that you decide belong to you,
not the world.
You can tell the truth
without revealing everything,
and that is okay.
I don’t know if I will ever be healed,
but I know that I keep healing.
I don’t know if there is a final E-D,
but I know there is a continuous I-N-G
and
somehow,
that’s just as hopeful.
Don’t aim
to come out of life
unscathed.
Aim
to come out of it
scathed well:
Scathed, but using your scars
for the betterment of others
and yourself
I put so much work
into forgiving you
now I need to put
that much
and more
into forgiving
myself
Looking back on our relationship,
sometimes I wonder
if you really hurt me
or if I was just bat-shit crazy.
My conclusion?
I was bat-shit crazy.
But that doesn’t mean
you didn’t hurt me.
__________________________________________________________
Note from the author: Just wanted to remind anyone who needs to hear it that there is no “perfect victim” of trauma. Even in light of your imperfections, your pain is valid. ❤
I think you view me
As the stars that light up a clear, summer night
But you’ve got it all wrong, babe
I am the darkness
(written summer 2018)
There was a me
before I knew you
There will be a me
after you’re gone
When I prayed,
“Dear God,
help me see myself
as I truly am,”
I hoped to get a clearer picture
of things I often deny:
my mistakes,
my failures,
my cowardice,
my evils.
Instead,
I felt
a deep love.
I wonder
if this was God’s way
of telling me
that while my flaws
are true,
Love
is even
truer.
I vow
to spend my life
walking through fires
instead of
cowering from them.
I vow
to spread light
even when it means
I must
endure heat.
(written 2017 or 2018)
*Inspired by the Viktor Frankl quote, “what is to give light must endure burning.”
My creativity
is like a whack-a-mole:
when my demons scare it away,
it always pops up somewhere else,
somewhere unexpected.
When the hammer of judgment comes down,
it runs,
then reappears
somewhere I’m not looking.
It’s playful and cunning,
like the Looney Tunes roadrunner–
the coyote
will never catch it.
It’s opportunistic,
like a weed
that grows through the cracks
in the pavement.
It’s resilient,
like Fawkes the Phoenix–
every death
leads to a rebirth.
It must reinvent itself
a million times over,
but it never gives up,
and I’m so grateful
it doesn’t.
