Teach me to go
Where the sky meets the ocean,
My soul is at peace,
And my heart isn't broken.

Welcome to the club.
The "Should've stayed home" club.
The "I'll never be safe" club.  
The "I tried to say 'no!'" club.
The "He refused to stop" club.
The "I froze and went limp" club.
The "I'll never be the same" club.
The "There's no handbook for being *****" club.
It was not your fault.
Welcome.
You're safe now.
I am so sorry you're here.

Depression is the swamp monster,
The murk and mud in the water.
It makes it difficult to see the bottom
Or know how deep it goes.

The world warps
And goes fuzzy around the edges
Like I am not real,
A place holder or chest piece.
My limbs do not move like they are mine,
As if they are foreign bodies attached to my trunk.
The floor is the only solace.
I melt into the stiff boards and rough carpet
Until the world tilts back and becomes
Whole again.

I love her the way the stars love the sun.
She is the brilliant light in my infinite universe,
Encouraging me to shine brighter myself.
Sometimes the space vacuum is cold or dark,
But we are lighting it up,
Together.

It feels like the skin has been stripped from my body,
Like I am a raw house unable to contain this feeling.
Sounds are dissonant and salt to the wound.
My synapses are buzzing through every tissue.
I am so whole and yet so incomplete,
Angry, electrified, and scared.
This body of mine does not feel like a habitat.
It is more like a zoo enclosure.
I wonder when people will stop gawking at me
Like I am some caged animal.
I am wild.
I am easily provoked when afraid.
Please do not tap the class.
Please do not feed the animals.
Leave me where the ground cries out in anguish
For the blood of my psyche shed in the tall grass.
I was not made for this.
I am not a performer in some circus, some exotic parade.
They have stripped me of my skin,
And this body does not feel like home anymore.

They're dividing up my grandmother's jewelry,
An act that feels more final than death.
I like to think she rests easy as she watches
The women she loves wear what was once hers.
They ask me to choose my top 3 pieces,
And how do I?
How do I choose which pieces of her I want to wear on my body
Like armor, like memories of made of gold or silver?
How do I choose between her trip to the Met Museum
Or the pin with the propeller signalling she was the
First licensed female pilot in the state of Kentucky?
What does it say about me this is the one time I wish she hadn't gotten her wings?
I want to wear her artist spirit.
I already have her poet's blood running through me.
This woman, in all her fiery, tender ways
Touches my life.
I hope she'd be proud I'm wearing her jewelry.
So many decisions to make.