Becoming

At times I’m scared to tell you

The thoughts swirling in my mind

What if they’re too joyous

Or too dark to process through?

They are scary for even me

When I become very honest

What does it mean to transform

My feelings into words and be free?

Can you really handle my truth

About death, depression, & loss?

Would you rather hear a little ditty

About love, laughter, and youth?

The questioning is part of the process

The digging and clawing through mire

To get down something, anything

The pen & paper a subtle protest

For you to read this is precious gold

A testament to the journey

But if you ever go away

I must learn still to be bold.

These words address my own heart

A gift that begins with me

And it is here alone

I will make my start.