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firstdraftvalkyrie · 3 years

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Dog

To me,

my trauma is

a dog on a leash.

It found me one day,

but I don’t remember exactly when.

And, sometimes,

I go looking for it

when it breaks through the fence

and tears up someone else’s yard.

I’ve taken classes

and read books about

my trauma.

My trauma, well,

it is well-behaved,

except when it isn’t

and I remember

my trauma

is not the leash

but is the animal

that chose me.

My trauma has accidentally bitten people,

usually when it plays too hard

or forgets how sharp teeth can be.

My trauma has a habit

of following me around,

probably because I’ve taken good care of it.

Except when I don’t,

and, then, my trauma finds a way

to get my attention

by any means necessary.

Then again,

sometimes,

I think my trauma has not-so-accidentally bitten people.

I think it wanted to protect me,

but I can only guess

at its intentions.

I wouldn’t want people to think I allow my trauma

to be violent

without good intentions,

but, to be honest,

I don’t know if that matters

when it’s the animal

that chose me.

I could tell you so many stories

about the way my trauma has changed my life.

How sometimes I don’t sleep in

or I break the rules

and let it in my bed with me,

but, really, it all goes to say:

trauma is a dog

on a leash

to me.

--f.d.v.

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firstdraftvalkyrie · 3 years

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Dreams

I still dream about you.

Never for any particular reason,

other than the times

I let myself

melt into my sheets

and believe

that I’m moving on

with the hope

that it will stay.

I still dream about you,

but not the good kind.

Not the ones I used to have

when I dreamed I was next to you

and could breathe in

the way you make me punch-drunk love

on your hugs.

No, not the good kind.

It’s the kind where I dream

that you show up or I run into you

and you don’t even know my name.

And I still feel

the same way,

but you don’t;

an endless dream-chase

of asking you

to look at me.

That’s the thing about

being a realist.

That’s the thing about

eating your promises for my breakfast

and dreaming about

your touch.

When I wake up,

I have to remember

none of it is real

except for the part

where I still read your letters

looking for you

to see me

reading you back to life.

It’s only real

when I love you with my whole memory

so deeply

that my body begs me

to rest

long enough to try to forget

once more.

--f.d.v.

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firstdraftvalkyrie · 4 years

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Drip

It’s not

you.

It’s the sound

of dripping water from the tap

that counts

every

passing

second

you said

you would be here

and the

pausing

of each droplet

saying

you’re never coming back.

--f.d.v.

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firstdraftvalkyrie · 3 years

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Touch

The sun

and the moon

rarely touch--

oh, but

isn’t it lovely

when they try?

—f.d.v.

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firstdraftvalkyrie · 3 years

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Move

I called you

the eye of the storm

inside of me

and all around me,

but I forgot that

storms move

and only rest

to gather their strength before

you feel them

go.

--f.d.v.

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firstdraftvalkyrie · 3 years

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Identity

My therapist,

when discussing

my own confusion

with my sexuality--

peeling the layers back

after months

of unraveling--

asked me,

“Is it because

you

feel safety

when you’re with

someone of the same

gender identity?”

The thought made me

terribly sad, truthfully--

because the answer was yes,

and I realized

how many had

waged war against me,

my body a battle ground

for their masculinity.

Their anger,

their pride,

their conquest,

their self-hatred.

Not many

times could I recall

recoiling from women,

the ones who held me close

and comforted me,

so much so

that I couldn’t help but

reach for intimacy

even when my mind said to me

this wasn’t what I was told to be.

I looked into the therapist’s eyes,

and, bitterly,

almost not in my own voice,

said that I’ve had things

stolen from me

before I even knew

who I wanted to be.

That I’ve only ever

let my guard down

with a few select people.

It’s a trap

I’ve laid to prove

that the closest friends

are sometimes the ones

that are enemies, too.

I’ve loved men and women,

many folks,

for the beauty

and pain

they’ve given me,

always so

intertwined irrevocably.

A daily task

to remember

that when they took

they also gave

to me

the gift

of understanding

I am not a safe haven

until I made it safe

for me.

I tell my therapist now

it is possible

that I’ve always felt this way,

and it is possible that I was made this way,

perhaps it is even possible

that I fled this way

as a refuge,

but,

finally,

I tell her

I’m ready to acknowledge

I am here.

So she says to me,

“Let’s begin.”

--f.d.v.

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firstdraftvalkyrie · 3 years

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Peace

Peace is knowing

when to run towards danger

and when to run away.

Mostly,

it’s not chasing

what doesn’t

want to stay.

--f.d.v.

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firstdraftvalkyrie · 3 years

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Cage

You made a cage out of me.

I thought you set me free,

but no, my love,

you’ve made a cage

inside of me.

My body,

my mind,

are no longer

safety.

You forged a path

to new places

and showed me

how lovely it could be.

Now,

my love,

you are gone,

and now

these tired bones left behind

are the cage

that reminds me.

--f.d.v.

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firstdraftvalkyrie · 3 years

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Difference

I loved you

before I learned

to love myself.

I’m working on that,

but I know enough to know

I still love you

and now I love myself.

“And” is the difference

between holding on

and letting go.

--f.d.v.

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firstdraftvalkyrie · 3 years

Photo

Like a river flowing through me,

I feel the push of longing rolling down my back

in a surprising swell

that can only be moved, but never stopped

without the course of time

and unfavorable seasons

that are beyond my control.

I wish to push you

out of my mind and out of my heart,

like I can dam up the currents

and take you away.

But no, not now,

because, even on a bright, sunshine day,

you move on

and I sink my feet

into your banks

wishing to know

how far you’ve gone

and if I’ll ever leave the mud behind.

--f.d.v.

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firstdraftvalkyrie · 3 years

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Moonlight

He didn’t call me the sun.

Not once did he say,

“My love,

you warm my day.”

No, he didn’t call me his stars

to guide the way.

Oh, it’s so much better

because he calls me his moon,

his Artemis, Diana,

so that my moonlight can shine on him

and he can admire the glow

with wide-eyed ecstasy,

a changing beauty.

I do not shrink from the light.

The light chases me.

I do not compete.

My touch is gentle and sweet,

catalogued, moving the tides

and inspiring poets

to welcome the darkness

and love it all night.

No, my lover,

he doesn’t call me the sun,

and he doesn’t look away

when I stand

in the doorway,

wearing

a black, diamond-encrusted dress

cut low

with only

my moonlight skin

saying,

“My love,

shine on me.”

--f.d.v.

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firstdraftvalkyrie · 3 years

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Written

I once believed

it was written in the stars

that we would meet.

But, no, my darling,

I know

the stars don’t tell me

what I’m not ready to see.

--f.d.v.

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firstdraftvalkyrie · 3 years

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Remain

Things

are fading.

Your voice

and your smile.

If I try

really hard

I can almost remember.

Almost.

Yet,

my body remembers

every time

someone new

kisses me softly

and I recoil or freeze

with an aching pain in my chest.

Gone are my favorite things

and I’ll carry

the heavy things

that remain.

--f.d.v.

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firstdraftvalkyrie · 3 years

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Balance

I don’t want

to be the love of your life.

I want to be the one

that watches you

love life

and the people in it

and I love your life

with you.

--f.d.v.

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firstdraftvalkyrie · 3 years

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Embers

She’s a mystery like that;

watching the world burn,

she just wants

to believe

she can save it

with her love.

It’s a madness

and a joy,

because she believed in me,

and I believed her

when she told me

she doesn’t feel the fire

the way that I do.

She’s a mystery to me,

because she told me to save myself

and showed me how,

and I just want to believe

I can save her

with my love, too.

But the fire is too hot

and I’ve crawled too far

to turn back now.

She’s a mystery,

the way she thinks she can

hold the matches

if it means

anyone with an appetite

for destruction

can’t do more harm.

I just want to believe

I can save her

with my love,

but the fire is too hot

and I’ve crawled far enough

to know I can’t save her now.

--f.d.v.

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firstdraftvalkyrie · 3 years

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Sunset

When your love and affection

sprung from the shadows

and waited for the sunset

to chase the world around,

that’s how I should have known

that my love

paints the colors of the sky

with every color

you were too afraid

to try.

--f.d.v.

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