I have always had a ticking curiosity

a time bomb desire

to get to the bottom of who I am

to walk across the landmines

of my eggshell bravery

there is a wise brokenness in there

Somewhere in the dark corners of ourselves

someone, somehow, is holding a flashlight 

and they are seeing us

helping us see

and I wonder, do they know

that my heart beats yellow, every time

like the sun on days I still thought I could reach it

do they know

my conscience is a loud hospital room 

with a lot of open wounds

I am holding so many bandages

made of sloppy words 

wrapping them around people 

like a little girl playing dress up, a doctor

my stethoscope fingertips

holding pens against peoples hearts

hoping each beat will tell me what to say

I am not always sure 


But these words do not fall flat when they land

they are made of parachutes

somehow they have learned when to jump

and when to stay

I am taking lessons from them

One day 

I will befriend the courage it takes

to be heard 

For now

I am filled with a big gladness

a gaping warmth

Knowing that not everything with a parachute

must land so soon