Light Speed — Slow down, look at the sky…and listen to music
The language I have I’ve only discovered recently, to say who it is that I am writing myself into existence. I’ve grown tired of being judged every. single. day…not seen for who it is that I am.
This long road? Not expedient.
That, for me, is the point.
When I hand you a mirror, what am I showing you?
Who?
Exactly!
I know who I talk to
when I write to _______ .
Who does anyone think they are talking to when they are talking to me…
Me?
I watch.
I listen.
I see you see me learn…
how special it is that,
no matter what, I see myself
How I see you see me see us.
They cannot see me and they do not hear us.
Hear me!
I whisper…
she whispers…
a whisper from her…
do you hear it?
HELPED are those who know!
“Wake up time travelers. We are here. And it is time.”
A line for triple consciousness only you can decipher:
We am the power of one, tested.
“What does Debbie want?”
To sit quietly sometimes
…and so I do.
To listen to music. I do.
To dance…to slow jams, house,
and that uncategorizable bop turned up on Spotify, looped into a playlist
Yes, I do.
Some things you have to wait until you are whole again to say proudly,
which is why they try and make you think it takes more than one lifetime to put the pieces of your journey together instead of a few minutes after stepping into the shower while also having the presence of mind to take a notebook and pen into the bathroom with you just in case.
When it comes, this.
What does not belong simply washes away.
Ink has a way of being rather versatile and beautiful like that.
And tears of joy stain a page more indelibly.
What I know?
Love brings itself whole to this story.
How you see me, see Us.
