better
by Marla
Is there anyone in the
world
who has never felt like a
bad person?
These are the things you
have stolen, you confess:
cookies from a jar when
you were three
a couple of twenties from
your father’s wallet
an idea from a classmate—
you couldn’t help it;
it was right there
unguarded
a girl your good friend
loved.
I’m not who everyone believes I am, you say,
and I reply, It’s okay, I’m not everyone.
These are the things you
don’t deserve, you fear:
a clean slate
forgiveness
a place on top of a
pedestal,
shining like a trophy
perched surely
on a shelf, for everyone
to admire
a happily ever after
the right to make
mistakes.
Your mind clouds with
doubt, worry that you will not
be a better man, but my
heart is awash with the well-lit
certainty that you
already are.
Know this:
know that this happiness
is yours
from now on, always
it has not been handed to
you;
it has been earned
through the years you
have lived,
built, cared, carried
a vision of greatness
inside of you,
through the years you
have persisted,
planted your feet firmly
on the ground,
gritted your teeth
against the sadness,
disappointment, loss—it’s
not like
you have been spared of a
crushed heart pressed, squeezed
into a chink in the armor
half its size so that it would stay
in place, where it belongs—it’s
not like
you’ve never been hurt
yourself.
And I know you hate it
when people say
You Deserve It instead of
Congratulations—
because what about the
people who worked
hard, tried hard, prayed
hard, fucking wanted it
so much only to watch it
evaporate like fish piss; what about them?—
but you deserve it,
you do.
You say, I feel like I will always be trying
to keep the demons on the other side of the gate, and I tell you,
Good. Don’t ever stop.
My mind is wide open,
free, and my love is
yours; you don’t need
permission to
take it.
You are better now
that the happiness is
home
and you can clutch it to
your chest
sew it onto your sleeve
wake up to it
breathe it in every
minute
tack it up on your
bedroom wall
Ziplock it
laminate it
blog about it
write a song about it
write a novel loosely
based on it
make a t-shirt out of it
kiss it gently
kiss it awkwardly
kiss it hard
tell it a dumb joke
make it an afternoon
snack
bake it a cake
share it with your
parents
share it with the world
stay in on Sundays with
it
grow old with it
be silent with it
stuff it into your
pockets
carry it around with you
wherever you go.
You are better now,
don’t fumble.
{Published in From This Day Forward, Summit Books}
This made me teary-eyed. Thank you for another beautiful and inspiring post, Ms. Marla. :)
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, Marla! Your constant support is an inspiration to me as well. :)
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