Dear S.,
I read your prose poem about fear four times
each word fiercely aching and vibrating with the misery of a pure and tender heart
shredded, fractured then armored
with countless layers of terror, guilt
loyal pump of life
cellophaned to suffocation
yet each word so precise
so crisply observed
so passionate
It seems you gave yourself away
for love
and yet, he poisoned you and made you feel
responsible for his pain, his dread
You know he is as afraid as you are?
So deeply afraid and hateful of himself that he cannot even contain it?
and so he poured his venom into the undeserving vessel that is you, perhaps
because he felt he never deserved your love
so deep runs self-hatred
It is a disease that tears our world apart each day
A world of hurt vibrates and shocks us
back and forth we ram painful daggers into one another
into our own flesh
I hope one day you will feel and see
what came to me after a lot of searching
through windows
the outside world was but a reflection of me
for years I grasped for opportunities
to be loved
and also pushed away kindness
that awkward boyfriend who made me ravioli from scratch
while my stomach rumbled
he tried so hard to make a purse for me out of fabric and got it all wrong
I didn’t know how to receive his affection
all of the confusion of not knowing where the love was located
trying to make art, get recognition from strangers
because my family wished me dead
after years of sadness
finally, relief
a simple kernel flowered
told me, I need not strive
I don’t need to be famous or beautiful or perfect
I don’t need an important career or qualifications
I don’t need to be anybody or do anything
I don’t need to deserve to be loved
all of the love I need or want is safely cradled inside
everywhere inside whatever mystery is me
so much unnecessary anxiety
have I manufactured so industriously
being fearful, feeling alone
Now I welcome life
and even alone or without friends
even if no one remembers my birthday
I am mostly full of joy and open to life
no one else’s fear can hurt me any more
I won’t allow it
but my eyes soften when I see their pain
it flares in tenderness and in violence everywhere
I cannot control it, and so I observe it
and warm my own heart to it
all I can do is
live my own dreams, my own peace
They radiate out in a gift to the world that is me
This is all I can do.
Just be me.
You are beautiful, S.
You are love, as we all are…
I hope one day you will be ready
allow life in
see the beauty that is you.
Sometimes I am scared or anxious.
Some days I am light and playful. Anything I feel now is allowed.
I don’t need to be perfect anymore to impress anyone,
to convince anyone that I am worthy of being loved.
This world is full of hurt people
I have been one of them
No one ever told me that I am love itself
that all that matters is to love myself
misguided people following rules and religions
divorced from the reality of self
They don’t know we are all one
and so they resent, are frustrated, terrified.
and they sometimes brutalize and need to control
my own mother is such a person
now I know I am love
and I set her free to be herself
as I am free to be me
adamevenevenadam 