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It doesn’t have to be beautiful  It doesn’t have to be significant  It doesn’t have to make sense now, then, or even in the future.  It doesn’t have to be profound,  It doesn’t have to be inspirational,  It especially doesn’t have to be buried,  Or stuffed,  Or jammed,  Or ignored.  It doesn’t have to be forgotten  And it doesn’t have to be winced at.  It doesn’t have to be a catalyst,  It doesn’t have to be packaged and wrapped  With a fancy ribbon.  It can be ugly sometimes,  And aimless sometimes,  It can make no sense and perfect sense,  It can feel like it was a lifetime ago and five minutes ago  It can bring you to your knees or spring you forward with hope and desire  It can be a heavy velvet read curtain.  One that can only be pried open by you lifting your hand and peeling away the mask of fabric.  Of stepping just one foot forward.  It can be the shadow that you now know how dark its corners can get.  To know how deep that bottomless hole can actually go.  Knowing what the gravity despair not only looks like, but feels like.  Because to feel it is to know it exists.  To know it exists means you know the limit of it.  Of you.  To know what the blackest of night feels like in your body also means the surrender of morning’s first ray of sunlight has never been so sweet. 

there was a time in my life when I genuinely believed that someone had cursed me anything that could go sour, did friendships, relationships, jobs, my health it seemed every other interaction was foul a long open fridge with a putrid stench I so believed I’d been cursed that I had a friend from kindergarten make a protection amulet for me, it arrived beautifully packaged and with a spell to activate it then I thought maybe my root chakra was out of alignment and I began listening to certain frequencies of Tibetan monk chanting and Native American flute still the bad energy stayed, so I started saging my home with no real knowledge of how to do it only later finding out you’re supposed to open a window or door so the bad energy has a place to go and I’d just stirred it all up perhaps some of these things worked or perhaps they were little more than a salve for my aching heart and mind but there was one thing that worked I kept going. whether by choice or by nature I continued living and eventually my path was found, the tempest calmed, the stars and planets ceased their torture my protection amulet still hangs, coincidentally, from my rearview mirror often bringing me back to a time when I thought I’d been cursed and I laugh

in many things I let myself not be too certain, not too unwilling to say I was wrong, not too unmoving in my understanding of the world around me the rigid tree breaks when the winds of change come knocking at the door the last time I was certain of my path, certain I was right, certain I knew truth as much as the eyes in the mirror, one single thread of belief snagged on reality and my whole identity came unraveled no, I’m not too certain not too certain there isn’t a god not too certain there is not too certain I’ll always want this hair style not too certain I won’t not too certain I know what I want to do in life not too certain I don’t I have made my shelter where the black of reality meets the white of wonder, snuggled in comfy and cozy where everything around me is bathed in the gray glow of uncertainty I make my tea and it is gray and I drink it and I am uncertain whether it’s good or it’s bad but of this I am certain… I have loved you before our souls have been intertwined in a thousand different ways and each time we have promised to return to one another I am certain that the only color in this gray haven is because you have hung it there, or we have painted it, lit it up in a burst of queer joy I am certain my soul will go on loving you in every lifetime that I will always find my way back to the calm spring of you that I will drink my fill and bask in the twinkling reflection of the sun on your gentle surface I think I have never been more certain.