This is an excerpt from my upcoming book of prose and poetry titled Luminae. To me this poem sums up in just a few words what the entire book is about, why I wrote it, and why I wrote it now. I wrote it because it is time for a book like this. It is OUR time. Time for the ones who dare to face the darkness and the light, the pain and the fear and the uncertainty, without turning our backs on love. It is about longing, expression, soul searching, finding ourselves, being comfortable being strong inside of ourselves.
It is time for words like these. The world is starved for thoughtful compassionate honest words, words both soft and strong at once. Words of soul, words of challenge, words of comfort, words of heart.
The poem above, and every single piece in Luminae, was written for the ones who dare welcome everything. We need the ones who welcome all of it, even the hard things, without judgment. The scary things, the things we do not yet understand. We need the ones who will stand up even when they feel like crawling and claim their worth, their integrity and their limitless love and understanding. We need the ones who see. We need the ones who listen. We need the ones who create.
Some reject my writing because it is too dark. Some reject it because it is too light. But the ones who understand the true depths of the human heart, who believe in the beauty and necessity of holding both light and darkness sacred, those are the ones Luminae is for. Because those are the souls this world so desperately needs.
It’s all around you, the way the vacant words falling from the mouths of those who do not understand separate and resuscitate themselves, surviving only barely by the eating of your breath.
You like the rainy days because they break you and cradle you just enough. I can tell you wear anguish and destruction like a shield, that you believe safety is a gag and a blanket, something you win by paying for it with every aching fiber of who you want to be.
When you smile I want to pull the flowers from your bleeding chest and plant them in the darkest corners of my mind. Never to forget you, you and all of your wilderness, all of your seasons of life and skeletons and death. A wall of tears is suspended in the air, at any moment about to crash along the surface of your limbs. You can tell me all the dirty things, I have no interest in robbing them of you.
The moment I met you I knew we had known each other for a very long time, it felt like my eyes resting behind your eyes would have made perfect sense. The way you saw the majestic and the terrible things I could see and did not turn away. I am always so taken by the souls of those who find silence to be rich, the ones who slide their bodies into a quiet room and listen for the things most people throw away by moving too fast, protruding too intrusively, talking too much. Saying nothing about nothing when I hunger for so much.
They shuffle and speak in low tones as you drift past their illusions and up into the blue electric sky. It’s not that you don’t care it’s just that there has to be more than this, something with a deeper soul must exist if only people would let the darkness into the light and the light into the places where they think there is nothing more to see.
And as they keep trying to sell us eternity, we fade farther and farther into retreat. This moment, the one catching you and I by the gap between heartbeats, this is the only one we need.