We go back and forth
To this small place,
In this big world
Where horrifying things
Are surprisingly beautiful

There is light within darkness
Sketched in black and white
Written in gold and silver
Scattered along the seven seas
And over the lands where kings rule

There is light within darkness
Up the starry sky where the stars roam
Down deep in the abyss where creatures hide
Sides of an alley in the city
Beyond the green fields and yellow deserts

There would always be
A light within darkness
A sign of hope, a surge of faith
A new day, a new chance
It's never too late to be brand new

When I was young I used to think that being an adult meant not having a bed time but I've come to realize that it means being in charge of my own bed time
And it also turns out that doesn't even scratch the surface of what being an adult really means

Being an adult means taking your medication every evening so you don't spiral in and out of depression and sever all stability you worked so long and diligently to obtain
It means drinking a bottle of wine and writing poetry by yourself on a Wednesday night just because it feels nice
It means breaking loose a little and nights out with your friends drinking and having fun, pretending you're still seventeen with no care in the world
It means being completely and utterly vulnerable and throwing yourself out into the world saying, "This is who I am, love me or leave me, but PLEASE just take me as I am!"
It means giving everything and everyone a chance
It means being so **** broke but still feeling accomplished because there is something so wonderful but so terrifying about freedom
It means frantically trying to figure out how you are going to pay your bills
It means working extra hours at work regardless of any leftover time or energy you might have
It means doing everything in your will to preserve that once constant and forever thriving creativity and innocence you had so much of as a child
It means trying to balance out being both ordinary and exceptional
It means realizing you can't escape participating in things you don't necessarily agree with, like paying taxes and getting up and going to that job every morning that you pretend to love
It means being self-sufficient and responsible, even if you don't feel fit to do so
It means telling your family you love them every single chance you get because you now realize how profound your love is for them and how much they truly mean to you
It means recognizing how important and wonderful your parents are, how much they really know, regardless of what you used to think when you were 16 or 17
It means acknowledging the fact that people will disappoint you but you simply can't blame someone for merely being human
But most importantly, it means realizing your own true beauty and purpose

For the first time in my entire life I can look in the mirror and see my body, my skin, my bones, as something charming and beautiful
I've never had a problem finding beauty elsewhere, whether it was in the world, in some small thing, or in someone else, but I could never seem to find it in myself
Until now
I love myself, my body, my mind
I see beauty in my being
I am able to find true beauty within
I look in the mirror and can wonder what my childhood self would think about me now
Is this what I imagined being an adult would look like?
But that doesn't matter because I love who I am now
Sure, I have my vices
And there is always something that I could be working on
But I am finally at home in my body
And it might have taken me 19 years to get here
But I am so happy

I don't care anymore what people think
which oddly, I've found, isn't the same
as not caring at all. Now it doesn't really matter
what transpires between you and I

Sure, you've held my head in lap and *****
I think of it often, sweet embrace and tired faces
Your laughs mock strings of heart I'd kept in silent places

Like the one I saved for "us"
Dredging anchors I'd dropped long ago
Though the chains were broken now
I'll never know how you knew
It's one secret I keep for us,though I know you don't know it

Here darling,
rest your neck on my knife
and I'll cut us both a slice of peace.

i love stumbling upon advice from wizened sages,
who'd 'semble the tao of writing decent poetry
into a clever, lengthy monologue

read years earlier (just a few), it might save me
a hundred odd embarrassments
that, today, bear my name

like the time my kid balled his fists up
'cause i said so
but got knocked down, again, by the playground bully

not a Quakerly thing to do...
i'm still learning, too
(maybe i didn't teach the right stance?)

or perhaps we learn more by our failures;
my little boy's muscular, a confident wrestler, now...
gets along with everybody - go figure

and he writes pretty good poetry  -
all by himself.

You want someone
to write sad poems
about you as they
wait all alone.

But she is not here.
She doesn't have time
to write about you.
She's too busy fighting fear.

So wait at my door
or wait at my grave.
I wait for no one.
Not even a word more.