Ms. Jackie

Lately I’ve been so worked up with

whatever the world is doing, like

it affects—my brain, my heart, my mood,

my body, and hard to admit: me and you.

You’ve been so strong.

I’ve wanted to be absent—like

come home and disappear, like

float through space throughout the universe inside my head

suffocating, screaming silent screams; my face

willfully blank, and my answers to your concerns

willfully empty. I pushed you aside

to move on through the days and days

until something ended.

What a sad, sad way you’ve been treated.

But no matter how much indifference I’ve thrown at you,

you’ve reeled me in again and again, again and again, and

again and again. I’ve been tantruming because: Wow,

there are problems I don’t know how to solve.

Some are so giant I can feel the idea of them crushing me.

Some are so large that I’ve submitted to my darkest corner,

that spot up there in my mind with the strongest walls

and the narrowest portholes.

I’ve come home so I could go to sleep so I could wake up

so I could feel as undeserving as I purposefully could so I could

come home. So I could go to sleep. Somehow

I lost you. Out there in the cosmos of my darkest musings

you were eclipsed by fear.

I want to know I’m doing the right thing. With my life.

I want to know that when the past and the future converge upon

the horizon of my soul, I feel good. You know? That in the moment

I am me.

I want to know this isn’t some sick fantasy—where dreams

are tied to the end of a stick while I chase them through the motions.

Yeah, I got all caught up in that.

Shit around you will convince you you're the protagonist

that destiny chose. It’s you, and then the world. All decisions

are for you. That’s where I was. I was alone on the mountain top

but looking at my life as if a movie poster. Fantasy.

Life for me to overcome.

So when I felt it getting hard, I felt like Yeah,

I should be down, and out, and beaten. Yeah,

I should feel like giving up—it’s that one part

where depression wins because I’m supposed to fight.

I’m supposed to be the hero of my imaginings.

I see where it’s all gone wrong. I see why I’ve been allowed

to think like that.

Which makes the realization of how I’ve treated you

devastating.

Luckily you are a miracle and you understand how I learn.

Luckily you believe that when I’ve learned it

I’ll be a better person.

I can feel it in my soul—how filled up you make me feel.

I can feel it in my soul—how warm your light shines when you shine for me.

I can feel it in my soul—how life isn’t just a lonely thing to wonder at,

but it’s expansive. It can be filled with love.

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Imagine.

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