Stay

for KMKB, my soul sister, always.



To sit on the sidelines, 

civilized, composed,
untouched, 

unharmed,

while you are so hurt--

Is a special kind of hell.

All I want to do is intervene--

hold your shield,
yes, I'll hold, you punch,

I'll carry you when you can't,

hold up the mirror for you and remind you

of your gold

when you feel so dirty.

It is a special kind of hell

to be geographically
obtuse,
irrelevant.

Trapped behind white tape.

To watch the monster stalk you,

To see it gain on you,

and selflessly,

and selfishly,

hate that fucking corrupt beast,

from my core to anti-soul
and back again.

And then,

I remember.

I know that the beast feels for you with

the same veracity

the same intensity

the same longing

that I do.
Where I will lilacs, dance, and laughter
it feeds on bloody death.

My grip is strong,
maybe even stronger.

But it is a magnet

with poles in a circle
a spiral
deeper than roots,
than veins.

And to feel powerless

as I watch while

it ravages you and 

mars your tender soul,
it is a special kind of hell.

Because,

I can only do so much from the sidelines.

And love,
I will scream for you as long as I have breath,
a heartbeat,
root for you at the top of my lungs

And encourage you forever.

But to see you trip,

to be captured, and not be able 

to do

anything...

it is hell.

You say that I am helping.

You say that this helps.

But I feel powerless.

If I could pause it all,

give you a break,

I would. 

I would do whatever it took.

I wish I could show you how exquisite you are.

I wish I could make you believe in yourself.
I wish I could take your place.

I feel scared when you hate yourself this much.

I want more than anything for you to be gentle with your body,

to learn to love it,

to see yourself through true eyes.

To see the complexity of who you are

in the purest, 

most lovely fragrance,

a breeze that floats,

dissipates, dissolves,

and bursts,

emanating with the inherent self,

your beauty,

your wholeness,

just

singing in the spaces between words.

I know that this is coming.
I have to keep believing,
even just for myself.
I have no choice.
I will be
addicted to hope.

Until then,

I will stay with you.
We will keep crawling through hell.

It is a special kind of hell
sacred to me

-- because you are here.

I will stand in the fire with you

and for you,
and

always,
I promise-
I will stay.


Please, please
please promise me
that you will choose to
stay

too.

Hide

it's not an impending storm 
that sends people into their houses

but--
the threat of one

--that causes them to duck their heads,
close the windows,
yell for the kids to hurry home.

it is not the truth
but

the threat of being exposed
in a lie

--that sends us running to hide

to be both the storm
and the coward:
this is misery

hiding
as I lie down
to create shelter
from the storm
I've made
I get it,

finally--

I don't want love without being true.

And I cannot love
until I am known.