a tribute to Wallace Stevens

I*

Among all the callings in the world,

The one that spoke to me

Was that of storyteller.

It is the only frequency I vibrate in.

II*

Because I am only one person,

Except when I am writing.

Then I am many.

III*

We are all part of stories we did not choose.

This is the best way I know to reimagine them.

IV*

Writing my thoughts down

Was like putting on glasses at 15

and looking in a mirror.

For the first time,

I see myself with clarity.

V*

To remind myself

Of the things I know

In case I forget

that I know them.

VI*

There are some things I cannot say.

I am unaware of this until

Suddenly, I do.

VII*

To prove to myself

That even when things get destroyed,

When pages get burned,

When all my hard work was for naught,

Well- that’s okay too.

VIII*

I know enough

To know that really, I know nothing

But talking about all that nothing

Almost feels like something.

IX*

When the story is finally on the page,

It makes a map,

And from there,

I can create context from the chaos.

X*

Because how else will I learn

All the things I need to know?

I cannot always wait

For the lessons to find me.

Sometimes I must write them myself.

XI*

We are all leaving pieces of ourselves behind.

At least this way I am doing it on purpose.

XII*

The world is spinning.

My page is still.

XIII*

Because there are certain stories I want to tell,

Even when I am not yet the kind of person

Capable of telling those stories.

That is okay.

I will wait,

Because I want to be that person,

And by writing, I can become her.

I arrive one word at a time.