Give me a screen
A blank document
A field of snow

I will not be afraid

I would trample my footprints
Leave my mark

I would not be afraid.
Not today.

Because today, I am as empty
As the text box
As the screen

And it would be a relief
To see a mark
Visible
And left by my hand

Don’t write me poetry

It’s never worked before
Vanity, all of it, vanity
And I don’t want any
More-words, just-words, nothing-but words

I don’t care for
The structure
The way
It is so easy to steal
Phrases
lines
Automatic sigh-bringers
Used a thousand times
By history’s pen and
Those more worthy to hold it
than you

All you did
Was take the bag
Of scrabble tiles
Rattling and clacking together
And shake
Once
Twice
Thrice
Forced
Farce
Until you were satisfied with what it gave

And you threw away the rest

That’s not art
That’s strategy

It’s too neat
Neat like summer
Neat like children’s books
(not the good ones)
Formula following
Empty and hollow-ringing

Give me something real
Instead
Give me the ramblings, twisting
wanderings of your mind
give me the dark places
the secrets
the mysteries that lurk in the depths
like sea dragons
like the ocean itself
there is so much more
so much wilder and deeper

so
grab my hand and pull me in with you
don’t flatter me while dipping our toes
because why
why would we choose the ship
the safe little dingy
bleached wood, branded logo on the side
when underneath
lies atlantis
and
the depths

Dear Younger Me.

The days ahead are dark.

There will be points
Where you will close your eyes
Burning, stinging, tear-torn eyes
And it will look no brighter
When you open them again.
You will reach for the light switch
Only to discover
The dual bulbs
Clustered under the shade
Are doing all they can already.
You will walk upstairs
In the witching hour
The dark scary still hour
And even though there is nothing
Nothing logical to fear
The still scary, dark hour
And the night will surround you
Press in on you
And you’ll swear each step is a mouth
Waiting to swallow you alive.
You will leap from light switch to light switch
Because the dark
The cursed, smothering dark
Is a fate worse
Than sinking into a molten floor.


Dear Younger Me.

The darkness does not win. Not against the light.
Remember that.

Even if you, yourself, don’t feel light.
Even when you feel bogged down
Like the weight of a thousand worlds
Rests on your shoulders
And you’re slogging through swamp mud, besides.
There is light, and hope, and peace
Peace like none you have ever known
Waiting on the other side.
And if I could spare you the tears
The ache that tears your chest inside out
The lump that threatens to stay
Choking you
Breath by breath
Forever
If I could spare you that
You would never grow.
You would never become me.
Broken. Imperfect. Beautiful.
Stronger, holding tight to the Savior’s hand.
I wouldn’t trade all the stars to be you again, me.
But someday you’ll get here. April 2018.
You’ll write a poem. Me to you. Heart to heart.
You’ll look around. You’ll look back.
And there will be light again.