There are days when my poems feel less like bruisesMeggie Royer
and more like crop circles waiting to spread their soft bones across
the earth of my page- these stories need to be told.
My voice used to be just a side effect of having a body,
until it found paper and learned how to scream,
the kind of scream that evaporates in all the noise.
I’d rather write about people who got lost in the cracks of my sidewalk-
so I can write about them clawing their way out-
than write about people who were born with every limb already aboveground.
Because sometimes every word is an act of therapy,
and there’s no better listener than the reader who finds relief
in every oil spill of ink. Because sad poetry is the truth,
and I’m tired of biting my lip.
Because the people I write for have been going through hell
and sometimes, if I spellcheck my words carefully enough,
a line or two will flame brighter in that person’s heart
than the flames they’re so used to being burned alive in.
When I was a kid, I used to try mending the broken wings
of all the moths and butterflies that crossed my yard,
until some of them gave up on flying with stitches,
and I learned that sometimes people quit on life like that too.
So now I write all these poems to teach people
to start giving to themselves
instead of giving up or giving in.