Yes, here

Yes,

even with my tender places,

my numb spots,

all the ways it is hard to breathe,

I beg to believe myself enough so when

I touch this fragile casing skin of a body, I say

yes,

here,

in this place,

I am whole,

unbroken,

an unapologetic fire of rage

and love and right and

yes,

here,

I am unfolding creation that speaks

courageously against fear, and doubt, and

yes,

here,

in all these scarred and aching places

we shall only ever know that courage lived

and power blossomed

here

is where this beautiful was created

so yes

there is destruction.

There are places of unbreathing, fearful loss,

there are depths of unending still ache that ripple,

I know this poem

is the one I keep writing

assure myself you are tired of reading, but never

feel I can make the words heard

for I am here

holding these contradictions that can only land

when obscured by metaphor,

and even

when I am most precise.

Pointing to this place

here --

yes,

here--

this place

it is still a home of invisible,

of masked ruin,

here

there are depths that flatten my lungs,

this type of alone is not adjective,
is not noun, not place

not somewhere I reside,

this alone is a verb that reaches

all boundaries -

yes, 

here,

in these aching places,

yes,

I am here,

here,

yes

still

now

living

breathing

aching

here.