MY CATHARSIS

This poem is not very gentle.
This poem is not based in resentment…
However, it is a mere observation of happenstance.

I wonder now as I’ve often wondered before…

Why?

How I feel in the moment sweeps the rug from beneath me long after the moment has come and gone.

I may or may not gather enough balance to save myself.

Quite often  I fall flat on my ass.

At least the rug is lifted and unveiled from that…

Is the real hard truth.

My mind assesses and stretches my experiences as far as they can go.

Then onto their inevitable snapping apart there is this relentless realization of how insignificant I am.

Right now and even then.

I have seen many faces and I have heard too many voices.

I often wonder how did I get into the spaces I am in and how did I stay in them?

Better yet, why did I stay in them?

I’ll tell you what.

The only thing about me that is southern is that I dance to the song of farewell for far too long.

As the time ticks away my eyes get heavier and my words become shorter.

Today I have learned to use the phrase:

Imma head out and actually do that…

I am small in stature however large in heart.

At the heart of it all I want to share that in most places I do not say much.

I observe. I listen. I watch intensely. I study closely.

When I feel safe enough in my expression after quite some time of reading the social climate before me.

I express and lean far too much into those around me.

Even then…

I often find my rapid fire of excitement is quickly dampened down by looks of bewilderment.

Those around me just recoil as quickly as the air in my lungs seems to vanish.

Between the gasps of others and the deep sigh of disappointment within myself…

I have no choice but to hide and this is no childhood game.

I seek no one.

When my hand touches the door handle of my home…

To face the day ahead.

I know that the probability of seeing a face of disgust are greater than ever.

My safety is in question just as my experiences have always been.

If I had joy it was taken. If I had any sense of autonomy it was taken.

Innocence taken. Security taken and I. Taken.

Here I am.

I wonder if I am in the glory of my dying days.

Or, will my words again just be once again… Taken.

My unraveling peels everything from off my soft frame.

Will anyone even care to see the art that is within?

I am not sure but I insist to one day hang on every wall in a single gallery.

To the untrained eye there is nothing to see in this current artwork but sadness.

However, to those who truly know what it is to feel this particular brand of pain….

I hope you see some hope in that you are not alone.

I have been…

Mocked for my appearance.

Mocked for my existence.

Mocked for my mistakes.

How little I am.

How little present I am.

How little I cared.

Yet, everything that is said about me comes back to me.

These words are just the bladed boomerang.

Let us play catch?

I relish in that my joy is treason to the façade that some play because my joy is legitimate.

Let that marinate.

I may be seasoned meat but my flavor is not disfavored.

I understand my aesthetic and style is decent at best.

Who would have thought!?

I actually would have learned to love that for myself.

My looks may not capture the room but my voice will very well captivate you.

However, most days I can accept my insignificance.

Today is not that day.

I wholeheartedly accept my existence as well as my mistakes.

There are things that I could have done and should have done.

I own my part.

I drank and used to my unconsciousness.

I own that in totality.

In my search of oblivion I only found one thing that was consistent in it all…

It was that I had always eventually felt nothing.

That is also what became of me.

I was once very much a nothing.

Today though…

I feel everything.

So, when you hear my name come off any tongue at all just know…

That what is being spoken absolutely unequivocally means nothing.

For I am not sentenced to words relayed of who I once was.

I am very much an experience.

To know me today is to be in front of me and I am joyous in the harmony section of the gospel pew.

You are the lead vocal and I…

Just want to understand you.

My experiences in life.

Got me right here under a light and it is here where I would rather be for the moment.

There are no gimmicks or slighted compliments and simply no room for misinterpretation.

This is where I am finally safe and secure enough to be heard.

Will you lend me your ear?

I was a spectacle long before I entered this room or stepped onto this floor or any stage.

My mother would even argue that it was before I could even walk.

Before I relayed a single word.

Truth is this.

I never have been one for the weak.

I am not for the passive displays of aggression regularly thwarted in my direction…

By people that have no depth between their eyes or in their very souls.

I am not for those who have no sense of direction because I will not ever be lost again.

I am not for those who are deceptive in regard to their words.

If your actions and words do not add up that equates to me disappearing.

That is my only promise to anyone I encounter.

I may not be a shapeshifter but I will drift away from any negativity quickly.

I only say this to warn you.

The buey of comfort only stays in place because of its anchor.

I swam deep enough to find what my anchor was.

Have you?

My reality of life is that amidst everything I have ever experienced or endured.

I still have joy.

I actually have an immense amount of joy.

With its practice that is why I am alive today.