Poetry Corner: Even If You Can’t

even-if-you-cantEven If You Can’t


You were always meant to write until you broke

the very language you were leaning for.

Things are not okay.

You are not okay

Your piano strains to find a chord

Your sculpture cracks

A voice shakes

A canvas bleeds

The curtain falls

The dancers fuck

You stand in front of a blank page, screaming


But you are doing something


You were always meant to cry at night

when sound sleepers put their heads in soft places

things are not okay

The screen won’t stay black long enough for the world to grow vast again

and anyway,

You were always meant for things that are not findable on screens

– compact, e-mailable, googleable.

You lie with your eyes peeled and darkness spills through

You kneel with your head on the tiles and cry your eyes out

You have dreams that weren’t meant for sound sleepers

You hurt because you are someone

Because you are growing, trying

You hurt because you feel

everything’s wrong

but nothing’s wrong with you

for knowing it.

Even if you can’t be the one who brings the light

Be the one who waits all night for light to break

and watch it shine while they are sleeping


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