Able to Stand

Like a thread I am taut that
I cannot span the distance.
Reaching for the oaken chair
so we can face one another.

I want to talk, and I mean really
talk to you in a way you won’t forget.
I have been sinking for too long
into the water I thought I could stand on.

Every time we part, I stomp around
my cozy room like an elephant.
The words I contained are heavy
and weigh me down so much.

Recently I had a brilliant talk with my
reflection, and I told myself to let go.
Somehow, in the silence of the bathroom,
I found inside of me the courage.

We sit eye to eye and I am free.
I can smile and mean it like I
haven’t meant it ever before.
You know my heart through my throat.

I have my mother’s lips and her
generous spirit inside me as well.
I have never wanted to hurt you, and
that fear has clipped my wings.

From the yearning to speak
I found the stumps have regenerated
into the most beautiful plumes.
I can stand and leave now with no remorse.

The last touch I will leave with you
is this: I will gently cup your face in
my kind hands and lightly brush my
lips against your forehead, farewell.