Monday, November 16, 2015

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.

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