In Favor of Bravery

Bravery felt like…

agony, for the longest time.

like a jostling of waves in a water-balloon-of-a-heart,

holding a shipwreck, exploding, contained only by the pale pink latex of its walls.

It felt like spiraling into a bad dream you choose,

on a pillow case overstuffed with doubt,

and waking up to find like a cat,

it was sitting there — on your face — every morning,

for a year.

It felt like running to the window with stubborn persistence,

to find the sun –

perpetually dressed, in a black cloak.

“It was chic,” he said. “It was magic,”

he laughed.

It felt like opening the door to find that you’re not much starter than he,

you left the house in a scratchy thick sweater,

made of butter,

in July.

It honestly felt like…

everyone in the “world” was doing the “normal” thing,

except you.

I(t) felt like, giving up, like coming up short.

It was an argument. A fight.

It felt like this, in fact — until it didn’t.

When I realized “normal” was black and white,

and I wanted to go chase the rainbow.

And then. Ha. And then…

it felt like the breaking of dawn.

Like the fullest breath I’ve ever dared to take, again and again.

Like walking to the ocean. Like taking a hike.

And then… I felt like doing it again.

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volcanic ash

a sign of time, of leftover loves, a signal that shifts the tectonic plates of chasms we thought had once been properly stitched up

only to wander upon them and find, they’d just been laid dormant

the roundest, warmest salt water tear rolled out, we let it commemorate

remembrance, a battle scar, a battle cry

one hundred and four years later, still eruptions

signs of love, of loss

a simple excuse for our defeat, and a victorious reason for our persistence, to love deeper, to love wider, to love more consistently

“to go to the places that challenge who we think we want to become”