I woke up at 8:15 this morning,
thoughts overflowing
so many possibilities shine in sunlight!
Sunlight is Saturday
nowhere-I-need-to-go
my friend won’t kill himself in Minnesota
that’s where his heart lives
and so while he is visiting there this weekend
I am free to find my way back to my own soul
beating in my chest, confused
but oh-so-hopeful.
It’s two p.m. and I don’t know how I got here
sitting in front of this laptop screen
(like I have been all day)
Some sort of impulse sends me back to this
website, where I have not written for years
I flip to my Google Drive and pump out this poem,
writing everything down, so scattered on the page
because it’s easy to talk to a site of strangers
and I’m afraid I’m too tired to contact
the person I really want to speak to.
Because it’s hard to miss something when you don’t remember it?
And the fact that I’ve been whittling away today
everywhere online but the draft of the email I hope to send
makes it a little bit easier to remember what life was like
before I felt a little bit more alive?
I’ve never realized this before, but the phrase “I miss you”
can be a beautiful, happy thing -- it says
“the world reminds me of all the good things you are,” it says
“I’ve found something worth caring about even when it’s hard,”
it says "your existence makes my life brighter."
I have this other friend,
these twenty, thirty other friends
whom I haven’t spoken to in years
because I’m afraid they’ll say it’s too late.
It’s never too late.
an “i miss you” a million years after
is a new beginning,
a new 8:15 sunlight
It’s 2:23 now.
I have a poem to publish.
And then,
I’ll be writing an email.