january to april

no pictures can capture the last four months.

the stress of calling 911 for a student

the feeling of a breeze no longer being my enemy but simply being a gift

my joy at finding out i have a pair of pants that will hold a book in my pocket 

the pain and fear of my body being used as a barricade for a bullet, a bomb, an eight year old 

the sun rays as they hit Calvin the skull who lives beside my reading chair (you will not even know why Calvin is important to me)

if i share a photo you will not understand how a stack of rocks made me smile

or how the trees tossing their leaves like a rolling wave brought me life at the end of a long day 

a picture cannot portray my satisfaction in making something good, something lovely, something i enjoy 

or the discovery that our house had mini daffodils hiding under the soil out front (what a surprise, what a delight, these first visitors of spring. sunshine in a concentrated dose.)

my phone will not show you the dichotomy of today: the same fists that self harmed this morning are now gripping a paper creation that flies in the wind and the same face which is often wrinkled in a scowl is now transformed into wonder and delight. look at how it catches the breeze! colored paper stuck together with glue, a long orange tail. how marvelous! life is worth living, for this moment, this afternoon. 

your multicolored heart will never encompass the understanding and depth of feeling and emotion and history and context that i am trying and failing to convey. 

as if i can force you to become me just for a moment. like an ill fitting shoe, i would try to shove your soul into my sole. bending the edges and crimping the skin. the momentary discomfort will be worth it, i promise. 

once you see what i see, it’ll be worth it.