post election
inspired by Amanda Gorman’s poem “We Write”
We write because you might listen.
but i’m scared my words aren’t clear enough, my voice not loud enough, my thoughts muddled and weird because that’s how it is in my head, searching for better language to say,
I am here.
This is me.
holding out what is most precious to me in my hands, an offering in case the words don’t work.
but what if they do and we’re left standing on the edge of the grand canyon, an open wound.
my insides are raw and eating itself. yesterday i was a bottomless pit. nothing could fill me up.
40g of protein in a glorified milkshake. the fattiest bacon. the creamiest cheese.
and nothing.
still empty.
and maybe it’s not food and i have to ask myself what else is there i need. want is another question, biology giving me the basic hierarchy of things.
your coping mechanisms are rooted in wisdom (thank you body trust)
but after you’re done with all that you’re going to have to feel.