necessary poem
i dont know where to start but i really really want to speak this aloud
i wish i could colour code these so you'd know who they're coming from.
its loud in here. its loud and loud and only a little of it is actually me.
...
i tried really hard tonight.
i feel lost in the storm - lost in the storm, an impossible concept - and im clinging to everything that might keep the water from my lungs
let me list them
let me try?
this isnt pretty or poetry or proper its just words. they're just words. but they divert the storm for a little while.
in the ocean you made yourself a lighthouse
but if i swim towards it, won't i just end up amongst the rocks again? isnt that how lighthouses work?
shhh. let me list them.
last night, you told me it was okay to ask you for help. you didn't use those words, but i think thats what you were saying.
isn't it?
i always have time for you
you can always come over, if you need to
you're my best friend
please come and hang out tonight
...something like that, anyway
and im trying really hard to trust you now
today i found one of your jackets hanging by the door, and i ignored my hesitation and i took it and i put it on and i felt safer for it.
every time today that i brushed a hand against it or adjusted the collar or remembered it in any way, i remembered you as well.
you manage to take care of me even when you're not here, you know.
you do.
i wanted to tell you all this, so i fought back the teeth in my head and i took a deep breath and i
swam towards the lighthouse.
...
you see? this is the risk.
the ocean storm might drown me, but at least its a predictable death, unviolent.
the rocks between you and me might be made of hope, but they're sharp all the same.
if i try,
if i reach out for that light,
once i start, i can't stop.
because if i let the current take me,
if i run out of strength,
...the rocks around the lighthouse are very sharp.
i know it seems crazy. that i would reject the chance to be safe and warm and seen in the light
i just didnt want you to see me cut apart on those rocks, when my hope turns back into fear
in the dark, you dont have to watch me drown
...
tonight, i tried to be brave.
the storm with its claws of cold ink is still right behind me, breathing over my shoulder
it tried to force the words down, tried to coat my tongue and tie my hands and make itself at home in my lungs
and thats when i felt myself fracture a little
oh no, its not a bad thing
suddenly i wasnt alone in my head with the storm anymore
and that tiny little voice whispered,
what have you got to lose?
be brave. trust them.
and then it turned away and grew claws of its own, and some part of me fought back the teeth and the ink and the dark
for just long enough
to let me send one little plea out towards the light
just four letters and a couple of question marks
...
you answered.
for a moment, i was almost in the light
but
its different tonight, isn't it?
tonight, there is no lighthouse. instead i found a couple of candles on the windowsill
a small light. a call. a hope. love.
not enough to shelter in. just enough to warm my hands for a moment
but the storm followed. i didnt want it to find those candles.
and so the storm closed around me again, strengthed with tears now, and it pulled me away into the ocean and tried to find a way into my heart but
couldnt
as that tiny tired voice screamed and fought
leave her alone!
and, unsure what to make of this, the storm listened.
it still rustles and writhes and sends rivulets down my spine
it wants in. my head is loud with the static of ink on sheet metal and tar
but we've got it outnumbered now, i think.
my fingers brush the edge of your jacket,
a tired girl who looks just like me and also nothing like me returns to her place, tucked beneath my heart,
the storm isn't so scary if you're not alone
...
is this what i wanted to write? not really. parts of it. possibly.
but it was a necessary poetry either way
or so i hope
...
(we're gonna get weird for a moment now. stay with me a little longer.)
(the frame of the camera shifts. the screen falls away out of view and you see instead the girl holding it, still typing.)
(if you were there in the room with her you wouldn't see it, but through this lens something is revealed.)
(two tiny candle flames, unmoored from wax or wick, hovering a tiny orbit over her heart.)
(as you watch, a third one flickers and sputters and trembles its way to life. the others make space, and it joins the circle.)
(in a moment she'll put the phone down, and you see the thought flutter across the surface of her psyche, only visible in the candlelight.)
(the storm has calmed, for her, for the moment.)
(perhaps she can go and be someone else's lighthouse now.)