poetry

A Blank. {poetry}

Today I free myself from sadness.

Even if I have to feel empty.

Like I lost something.

Like I own nothing.

As every beginning feels.

Like a blank page.

And I’m the writer

who can’t face

the void.

Like I’m responsible

for creating something.

When I’ve been used to bearing

useless confrontations

with a demon

who mocks me.

Should a smile break

on my lips,

it tries to defeat me,

saying joy

is inappropriate.

I beat it

back,

saying sadness

never leaves.

We’re like boxers in a boxing ring…

Who’s the talent, or the show?

I throw the punches

and something happens.

Punches thrown

back at me,

and it’s a living experience.

A movement, a moment, a life!

It’s all the rage!

And this blank page

is a bland page,

until I feel

something else.

Until I let wonders move me.

And I don’t move against them.

I create a new movement!

This moment, a life!

And the graveyard,

bottomless pit

of useful reasons

not to quit

the darkness

like it fits,

is always an option,

a choice.

And so is joy.

If we will imagine.

And if I can doubt

that good can come out,

when these nasty

feelings come

like they are entitled

to take over,

I can doubt anything!

I can doubt

my feelings of grief.

I can doubt hardship

never leaves.

I can doubt the darkness

and scoff.

I can doubt anything!

But the air

in my lungs

and the pain

that abides,

and how I hold

myself dear.

As love matters most.

And I know,

I know none

and none is

too sure.

And I take that doubt.

And I take it clear.

Clear and unsure!

With fears of dreaming?

Doubting, not fearing!

And when I doubt myself,

I can doubt

doubt itself.

And that’s how

I’m confident.

And when I say that

I inspire even

those who hate me,

one can in fact sit

with sadness,

and not die.

Without fighting.

Just being.

Just living, sadness

can be survived.

It is not

the silence that scalds

or the lampposts

beating down

on a solitary

soul that burns.

What pain one feels

is that of a life

outside the womb.

Not so smooth.

Not so sweet.

Not so painless.

And to bear it,

just bear it,

Is too much to ask.

Because there is no rest.

There is no going

back to the womb.

Once thrust upon

the world we need

to create it.

No longer spared

from the glare.

No longer anonymous.

No longer harmless.

No longer borne by another.

But born.

And in birth

we have power.

As we can

imagine.

***

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Tet Gallardo

Tet Gallardo

Tet Gallardo is a survivor of addiction to tragic narratives with sordid characters. She now seeks out the happy stories behind sad, droopy eyes; marvels at human endeavors; formulates quests with grandiose questions; and burnishes dulled dreams by disturbing obsolete self-concepts. She will be ordained church minister in the Unitarian Universalist (UU) faith in April 2013. She is a professional motivational speaker, leadership trainer, facilitator, and mediator. Her legendarily inexhaustible energy is fueled by awe, love, and inspiration drawn from spirited acts of kindness.
Tet Gallardo

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