It appears that today is World Poetry Day! What a bright & beautiful celebration of the words that tie us together, hold us up, sing us into being. Poetry was my first love & will always be my greatest teacher, & I am grateful beyond expression for the creators who have made it into such a beautiful home. As a small celebration on Six Impossible Things, I'm dropping in today with a new poem of my own for you all. This was originally shared with my Patreon darlings a few weeks ago; it is one of the more popular pieces among the weekly ones that I deliver, & I hope that you too enjoy it.
I am so pleased to share that this poem was a finalist in Brain Mill Press' 2017 student poetry contest—endless thanks to C. Kubasta for choosing my lil words to stand alongside so many other magnificent ones!
As always, a small reminder that I cannot share these poems without the support of said Patreon darlings—& World Poetry Day is a beautiful time to send a bit of love my way, if you find light in this piece or in any others that I've shared with you.
Thank you, my friend, for the words & for the softness. Thank you for listening through the storm.
Freud said that every secret the universe holds
is locked in the human mind. He said the only
reason we cannot reach them is because they will
drive us mad. Our minds know this. Our minds
are smart enough to make us forget. Our minds
love us enough to know how to keep a secret.
Here is a secret for you: I have no ghosts left.
Here is another: the room that I live in is warm,
harsh, & floundering in sleep. A girl & me, creating
a new language for our throats to sing in. Seconds
after, my father takes a class on how to look me
in the eye without flinching. Passes with flying
colours & hangs the diploma on the wall of his
study. At least there are these small terrifying
mercies. On this dream-table there is a feast
of invisible lips. All the time we’ve lost & will
retrieve only once we stop searching for it.
Here are two fortune cookies. Inside one:
do not be afraid. Inside the other: there is so
much to be afraid of. Both of these things
are true, but only one is real. There is this
girl I know who leaned too far out of her
window & fell into her own mind. After she
disappeared, I met her for the first time & our
throats sang to each other in a language that no
one else knows. I think Freud would like that.
Here is a secret: on the sole of my right foot
is a tattoo of everything that has ever died
for fury. I say this, but we both know that,
given enough desperation, most minds will
rewrite fury for love. I wake up to my father,
poking his head into the bedroom to say
goodbye before he leaves for work. Some days
this word is the only thing I know to be human.
Freud said our minds create reasons why every
painful truth we cannot face is somehow a lie.
If that’s not love, I cannot fathom what is. On
the sole of my left foot is a tattoo of every gift
I’ve been given that I will never be able to repay.
How in love we are with the things our minds
create to survive.