Call it whatever makes you feel good
for turning away from the mess
that I finally grew into. I own it.
Took me this long to finally fit into
the misunderstanding of my own eyes
and the way my heart beats much
deeper than the surface of a view that
can change colors when no one’s looking.
I have never stopped looking. But I’m not
looking back to twenty years ago.
I am the twenty years ago.
And you don’t see it.
Nobody sees it.
Have you ever lived a life where time stops
and never starts again?
The clock is broken.
Calendars blacked out.
It hurts to stand still
but the running… the running takes me
in a circle to the place when the clock
is still ticking and it’s loud.
I hear it. It rips through my heart
like my eardrums are busting open
and the blood in my throat is the wake up
call that strangles me with the hands
of time… the hands of you.. the hands of
my losses I can’t stop counting.
How could I not keep count of the blows?
I didn’t have solid footing and I can’t stop
searching for the roots I was ripped out of.
I didn’t grow with my feet in the flowers
and no one looks before they trample
a field that looks like nothing but weeds.
So I was weeded out
to make room for pretty things to grow
but all this time was the dirt that buried me
and I never died completely.
I have always been breathing in pieces
of a future that never waited for me to
catch up. Not everyone blooms the same.
~Stephanie Bennett-Henry © 2016