And Then What?

I wonder what most people would say
if they could say anything at all
without fear, of course, or worrying that
perhaps they said too much or revealed themselves
in just such a way.

I wonder what I would say
if I could say anything else
without worrying
that I said too much.

Understand?

I wonder how I would seem
if I could have been seen as someone
who is unafraid or believed
that I sounded strong instead of too awkward.

Or otherwise,
I wonder how I would sound
without the voice of my own
insecure tones,
whispering to me as I speak to you
and alarming me as I go,
or move or try to move forward.

I wonder what life is like
without the constant thoughts
that cause us to cling to our fears
or latch onto these unneeded worries
that lead us astray.

I wonder . . .

I wonder what the shadows of confidence look like
or why the ideas of insecure thoughts
cause us to cling to every worry
that will essentially do nothing else
but destroy us from within.

I have seen this, by the way
and I have been there to bear witness to how
this has destroyed me more than once,
and thus,
this has destroyed me.

This has destroyed my love
and all that fell within it
and her too, My Love
and all that came with her
was gone,
or gone like it always goes away
after we lose to the proverbial path
of our self-fulfilled prophecy.

I have told you this before
and I say this again
with all my certainty.
I say that our internal whisper
can be louder than any scream.
Or elsewise, the whispers of our internal narrative
can be louder than life as it cheers for us.

And life does cheer for us.
Life pleads for us
to live now,
as in to live out loud and
life begs for us to allow ourselves
the right to be free
or, at minimum,
live and go
and do whatever it takes
just to breathe freely.

Ahhh . . .
Imagine life without the heaviness
of everyday bullshit
or the weight of comparison
or intrusion that comes from
the inner critic
who puts us down
and keeps us from trying
to reach for the stars.

I have come here to sit with you
today, and also to expose my truth
and relieve the weight from my chest,
which is almost as freeing
as showing up at confession before
like we had to do before
your Sunday morning masses.

But no –
This is more than that
and to be clear,
that is more than this.

Salvation and redemption mean different things
to different people,
but for now,
this is all I can do to feel saved
or to redeem myself.

I say this to you because
I have to make a change.
I have to do this in the sense
that I cannot live as I was or as it were

and as it is; I need to feel something hopeful
or else, the alternative will be unthinkable.
I am not seeking
the absolution of sin,
or even the relief of confession.
No.
More so,
I am seeking the relief of the frantic mind
or the monkey brain,
that comes when one thought leaps to another.
This is the mind gone wild,
you know?
Do you understand?
Or am I alone, once again
screaming to the sky
with hopes to be heard,
or at least soothed for the time being.

This is what happens
when the assumption of casualties
multiply by my assumed catastrophes
and together, they add like raindrops
that fall like a deluge in the storm
of some emotional downpour.

I say that yes,
the same could be said
about us.
This is what happens when we find ourselves
sinking in the murk of our own emotional quicksand
and likewise,
the harder you fight to get out
is the same as trying to control the uncontrollable
and so . . .
the more you try to control, the deeper you sink
and the deeper you sink,
the further you drown in the depths
of an imaginary despair.

Do you know?
Do you see?
Or do you understand,
at least a little?
Or am I on my own again,
and once more,
am I screaming through behaviors
that cause you to understand my language

I see how it was
or what happened
and yes, of course, I can understand now.

Of course, hindsight is clear enough
to show us everything
because looking back
I see what I clung to.

I see what I wished I said
instead of what I did say
or better . . .
I can see how life would have served me better
if I only allowed myself to let go.

So now, I suppose
that this is the part where I explain
that Fear is a bitch.

Maybe this is where I declare
that such is life when lived
In the projection of bad expectations.

Such is life when clinging
to the worst-case scenarios,
and such was my life
when I held my worries
tighter than my triumphs
and saw the deceit
instead of watching the sunset
or tracing out the rainbows.

Such is life when wait for the next thing
to go wrong
or yes, this is what happens
live under the assumption
that says, “Someday,
I am going to have to pay for this,”
and therefore, in my case –
each time I felt joy
I assumed that somewhere, or somehow,
the terms of karmic debt would come along –
and haul me away, as in back to my prison
or the cell within.

I saw this like some kind of
beats of fate
or worse, because I felt joy,
I assumed that I would essentially
have to suffer the consequences
or that I would inevitably become the victim
and thus, I would have to face worst
from an emotional mafia
where the interest alone
is enough to kill the village
that tried to raise the child.

I am here, to pay what I owe.
I am here, not just to confess
but more so,
I am here to allow this to be
somewhat of a timeline
that will outline the narrative
of my internal voice which has always
been with me for as long
as I can remember.

And so – I say,
Expect a problem, find a problem,
or perhaps I should say
it is easy to find the problems
or to note them down
and see all that can go wrong
when this is all that I am looking for.

Look for peace, and find peace,
which is where I am now,
or better, this is what I am looking for
and hoping to find a clue.

Rather than cling to everything
that has gone wrong
I would rather hold the ideas of my victories
and embrace the parts of my life.
I want to grab the threads of moments like
say, a long walk on the beach
that took place before daylight came to a close.

I want to relive this
or hold the memories
of how the sunset reflects a sense of warmth;
the birds fly overhead in the silveriness
of tiny clouds that stretch across the horizon
place color in a new perspective –
the waves crash inward
and the high tide goes out.
I love this . . .

Sure, I suppose everything can
and will go wrong
but so,
my question becomes,
“What if?”

What if I cling to the fact
that I can live in the moment
and enjoy my life?
What if,
instead of thinking that time is only fleeting
and the sun goes away . . .
what if I enjoyed the sun
as it shone upon my skin?

What if I learned to enjoy your smile
rather than thinking
that you will see something about me
and, thus, what if I lived in the moment
instead of believing that you
will be like everybody else
and find something ugly about me?
What if this is the entryway
to something greater
than our greatest anticipation?

What if?
I think this is a great question
and more than the question<
I think this is a greater way to see the world.

I often see myself as awkward,
or I see me the same as when I was young, or . .
I see how I was,
as in before “my first time,”
which is before I knew what it meant
to hold the hand of someone I love.

This is a reflection of way back when
and before “I knew” about you
as a person and handled this poorly.
I know this all too well –
how it was before I knew how it felt
to feel for someone differently from
something more than just
a surface level.

I always worried –

What if I am not big enough?
Or good enough?
What if I am too small?
Or what if I move out of rhythm
or what if I seem
too out of touch?

What if I shoot and I miss
or dance out of step
and look stupid
or act like a fool?
What if I speak out
and the classroom laughs at me again?
What if I fall once more
and what if I have to submit to the same humiliation
like I did when I was little?

Well,
I assume it is safe to say
that I am no longer in the classroom
and I am no longer small
nor as small as I was.

I am not as weak
or as timid, yet
such is life when lived in the
inaccurate reflections of an old version of self.

I never wanted to be unwantable
yet I clung to this so harshly
and tightly
that all I could see was the worst of me
and all I expected was the worst
which had yet to come.

I never wanted to take the risk
or expose my truth
because yes, I am afraid.
Of course, I am.
I am afraid that the world would know I am only a child,
or that “I’m just a kid,”
and afraid that someday
the unknown is going to come for me.

And one day, fate is going to arrive
like a hearse at a funeral
or that my consequences will come after me
in some unwanted brand of karmic debt.
I am afraid of the restraints and the walls
which can close in on me,
like an invisible prison
and I am afraid there will be no time off
for good behavior.

Not this time . . .

I was always afraid to let go
because if I did,
I’d ask
“And then what?”

I’m still afraid.
It’s not that I’m not.
I am
But, now . . .

I see this and believe
that my will and my intent
outweigh my fears
for now.

Or maybe
the pain from “what was”
is strong enough to cause me
to wake up and finally let go.

Let go of what was
to embrace what is
and enjoy what could be. . .

Do you understand?
or am I alone again
and screaming my secrets to the stars
in a language that no one understands?