how many days do I spend thinking
I’m doing the wrong thing
letting self doubt burn me alive
dousing this fire
why is it when we think of ourselves
we first think of what we are not
how radical would it be if I
kept the flame lit
and let nothing put it out
not even me?
I’ve spent childhood believing
that there’s this idyllic destination
where the people are kind
and the world doles out only
what you can handle
that there’s some supreme being
making decisions that are
what’s best for me
but I’m learning lately that
looking out for yourself
is the only guarantee that you’re cared for
that there are no other more capable hands
to manifest what the future holds for me
than mine.
this much I know is true
you can work hard for the dreams you’ve dreamt
buy fancy clothes, diamond necklaces
host wonderful dinner parties, RSVP only
and still go to bed alone.
if you spend every day in service of a goal
you decide to put nothing else first
find calm in quiet days
with people you love
doing nothing in particular
because remember come morning, even
the richest of the rich
in their lush coats and finest silks
have to change out of their clothes.
I’ve slipped on my shoes and
I’m pushing the front door open
greeted by rich, dense humidity
creating a thin sheer of dew
on my summer’s skin
I’m transported to this time in my life
when togetherness was just a neighbour away
and every problem felt like a big one
I stepped off the porch
the way humid warmth attaches to me
like nostalgia
there’s comfort in the heat
of feeling so uncomfortable
I place one foot out
and then the other
the cicadas so loudly exclaiming
what a relief it is
to live in the past
because at least, you
always know what happens next.
in a world where being perfect is the currency
learn to leave your wallet at home
even as it seems
the world falls apart
and there are no good people
I consider how rain feels like
the universe, releasing pressure
and that the sun kisses every surface it finds
and how looking for good things
often manifests them
the wind carries you everywhere
that familiar scent of salt and sand
always seems to find me
every single breeze
seems to call you by name
we lived in a house at the end of the street
you’d turn the corner from the main road and we were there
this delicate landmark
this home sweet home
some nights the house would creak
old pipes, my dad would say
but some nights I swore I heard voices
ghosts of me from the future
whispering to remember this part
to remember this
I’m inflicted with memory
of first steps and a porch swing
a swinging pendulum of how time passes
that limbo when a moment turns into a memory
and all you can do is just watch it leave
when will this memory taste less sour
when does it get sweeter
I’ve had dreams of alternate worlds
cotton candy clouds and magical hillsides
where things go upside down on thursdays
and there’s no wifi on sundays
my feet will one day plant on uneven ground
and find strength to grow
even amidst strangeness
off-kilter:
one day I will find myself
without looking for someone else first
elleguyence 