Like a pendulum,
I have learned
the distance
between Hell
and Heaven
is sometimes
only a breath,
one heartbeat
leaning
toward the dark,
the next
remembering
the light.
And now,
after a season
of pain,
good things
are happening.
Quietly at first…
A door
left unlocked…
A hand
reaching back…
The sky
remembering
my name…
I should be happy.
Instead,
I am waiting
for the floor
to disappear…
I know this trick…
Every beautiful thing
once felt like
a warning…
So I hold myself
together
too tightly,
afraid that joy
might become
another way
to fall apart.
But not this time…
This time,
let me ride
the tidal wave.
Let me stop
measuring the height
of the water
against the memory
of drowning…
Let it carry me…
Let me laugh
with my mouth open…
Let me lose
my balance
without calling it
a fall…
Let me discover
that surviving
is not the same thing
as living…
And if I am
going to be afraid,
let it be
the beautiful kind,
the kind
that makes wings
tremble
before they move…
I want to know
how it feels
to be the moth
daring
the flame:
Not because
I cannot see
the danger,
but because
for once
I can see
the light
and choose
to fly toward it...