I Hope My Voice Doesn't Skip

Am Sorry for Your Loss”
When someone we love dies,
we say we lost them.
Perhaps this is our mind’s way
of convincing our hearts
we will one day find them again.

I think you should be nervous about

what I will accomplish once I heal.

The mountains I’ll move.

The miles I’ll cover.

The skin I’ll get under.

We are all recovering from something.

This is for all of us.

You were weak, and you left without a word.
It doesn’t take much strength
to slam the door
of an empty room.

I Hope My Voice Doesn’t Skip

When there is nothing left to say,

you stop.

You take in a breath.

You let out a breath.

You listen.

Do not stutter through made-up words for the sake of hearing your own voice.

When there is nothing left to say,

you leave.

Do not stumble through made-up words for the sake of holding on.

When there is nothing left to say,

you let go.

You do not allow your heart to suffer.

It has been too good to you to allow it to suffer.

An Untrained Eye Will Miss Everything

Life is split into before and after. We capture the befores while they are nows in photographs.

I keep a photo tucked into my dresser mirror. On the surface, there is nothing remarkable about this photo of me and two people I love smiling under my mother’s favorite tree in the backyard.

By the budding blossoms, I will always remember this photo was taken in early spring. On the precipice of not having to wear tights beneath dresses.

There is nothing remarkable about this photo of me and two people I love smiling under my mother’s favorite tree in the backyard. By the easy smiles on our faces, I can tell this was the last early spring before everything changed. That was the last photo taken before everything changed.

There is nothing remarkable about this photo of me and two people I love smiling under my mother’s favorite tree in the backyard. The photo is not centered or as focused as some of the photos we have taken since that day.

Not all the changes since have been bad. However, we no longer smile that effortlessly anymore. I let this photo of me and two people I love smiling under my mother’s favorite tree in the backyard greet me each morning because someone told me once we live life forwards but remember it backwards and that was one backwards day where I remember everything was actually fine. I like to remember we existed like that once. Actually fine. It gives me hope that we can one day be that way again. Actually fine.

You’ve learned the deeper you fall into me, the stickier I become, and the harder I am to leave. You will think you caught me, but you are the one who is stuck; I was never really here to begin with.

Building Bomb Shelters

We build walls in order to keep people out,

to protect ourselves from pain.

I do not believe these walls are constructed

with bricks and cement

but with ivy and vines and branches

that grow freely around us,

fertilized by the ache.

We lay the foundation for these walls,

we continue to water the hurt.

Stop watering.

Stop spending time with rain clouds.

Instead, wear the sun on your face.

The walls will crumble,

gates and doors and windows

will take shape,

and you will be able

to begin to

let the light in.

I Lose My Appetite Worrying If You’ve Eaten

You need to stop internalizing other people’s pain, my mother tells me on the phone. It’s not healthy. She is right; I have done this all of my life. Like an overused sponge, I soak up all the sadness around me, feel it as if it were my own, and expect it not to seep into my own life.

Don’t be blinded by your own light, she cautions. And don’t get hurt by pain that doesn’t belong to you.

But if I’m not pained by their pain, I have not earned the right to be overjoyed by their joy.

Ready, Set . . .

Start running after yourself.

The person you yearn to become

will never slow down for you,

will never wait for you to

collect

your

courage.

The person you want to leave behind

will do everything in its power to keep you

from catching up to your own potential.

Though that voice cannot be silenced,

it can be passed

and no one hates being outpaced more

than the person you used to be.

The person always

so used to seeing you a

few

paces

behind.