A Poem: I am, too
I am not OK
I am sitting here confused and fogged
I am drowning in my desk chair only because the air is so thick and
I am waiting for the life guard to blow their whistle
I am waiting for them to look in my direction
I am afraid to make a scene
I should be able to swim
But my legs ran away again and
I am paddling to stay afloat
Reach for me
I am still here
I am afraid no one will ever see me
I am another invisible girl, no one cares unless
I am screaming at the top of my throat, waving my hands over my head--taught how to speak up speak out. Taught my worth, my value. Taught to scream my truth from tips of my toes to the depths of the dark souls who come to scavenge.
I am searching for this mercy that they speak of
I am looking for the light as it fades above my crown, no legs and limp hands
I am a spotlight fading on the audience left in silence struck by the profound artistic display of the horrors we experience in real time. No applause.
I am not finished.
I am not OK.
I am trauma, embedded in your hair, skin and DNA and
I am here to kill your dreams
I am perched on your shoulder, whispering
I am never going to let you forget.
I am the warm impression on the other side of the bed
Reach for me, when night mares shake you restless
I am the racing in your pulse
I am the heat that sweeps outward, beading the sweat on your lip
I am going to catch you
Reach out your hand
I am the gravity that keeps you stuck and
I am the sharp pain that shrivels you
I am the gasp of air that you sigh for, dizzy, while tumbling between panic and blindness, through fields of darkness and tall grass.
I am the chill and the arch in your spine-trembling
I am crawling across your skin