if i tell you a secret will you promise to keep it?
sometimes the coffee keeps me wide awake
and i can’t sleep at night or during the day
and then words which seem senseless seep themselves out
from under the pores of my skin and you appear
like you once were, and i forget to fear
or to wish something different than i think is here,
and then i remember to steer in the direction that i’ve been given
and all is silent
all is still and still it is so loud! so beautiful and vibrant!
but all of that, it isn’t a part of the secret, dear
it’s just to reassure you that the secret isn’t something to fear
it isn’t something dramatic or selfish or true,
truly it is just a thought that sometimes passes through
and i am taken aback but i am also grateful and some-
times i am unsure of my reaction and its honesty some-
times i think it would be okay if i died, you see, that
is the secret that sometimes i think if i died i would hope
you will celebrate life instead of missing it i hope
you will take pride and know
that everything has its time to go
i think you think i am morbid in thinking such things
but i try to tell you it is not morbidity nor wishful thinking nor
something i think about frequently
it just is
with a period after
a fact, it is, something that happens to all of us
and sometimes i think it’d be okay if it happened now
or tomorrow or in fifteen years or later or somewhere in between
and it would be okay because i am living
every moment i am, it would be okay because i
feel life in my body and my thoughts speak and my actions do
and my words create, i create!,
do you see the beauty in it? do you see the scenery?
it means i’m alive! and that means i can die!
this is one of those moments late at night
after i’ve drunk some coffee and my brain and my veins
are blurry they are a bit
unclear, without any boundaries or limits
and it is midnight and i am wide awake and i know
these words are here for me to rest my head on instead of
on a pillow which will not let my eyes close it is words
which give me the comfort of the comforter and the sting of the mosquitoes
and still they are okay -
the mosquitoes and the words and everything between them
and the ways they come out and i can barely see them
and then i do and it is after the fact and i learn
about dying about living about loving about crying
about knowing to appreciate and knowing to take pride
and sometimes also about knowing to hide
maybe the words of late at night are a bit confused or a bit confusing
maybe they are only for me, amusing and refusing and
i am like a drugged victim to these things
but they bleed poetry! and paper! and sometimes the paper is fiction:
typed instead of handwritten
read instead of spoken
fantasy instead of soaked in
truth. in the blood of life. in its waters.
but no no that is not so, it is not so for me, it cannot be!
everything they say to me, everything they write
is for a reason. it is never treason. it is never doubt.
it may be senseless for you and it may be scary and maybe
you will not see but when i say my secret is about dying
i really mean it is for living. i mean it is for celebrating
life in all its toils in all its downs and ups and miseries
in all its glorious surprises and twists and turns and sizes,
it is for knowing that death means a life well lived it is
potential that has been fulfilled, it is
okay for me
if it should happen now or later
i wish for you to smile, that is all.
i wish for you to smile now and also after.
if you don’t believe me,
here it is, my honest word.
you can ask her.