It All Comes Back

It always comes back to you, doesn't it Fae?

I don’t think you ever realized how important you were

To your lovers

Friends

Nation

Continent

You mattered…

You matter

You will always matter to me.

Your story will always matter

Everything I want to say comes from what you never got the chance to

Everything I am comes from failing to fly like you

You the shunned

You who will not bow

You who will not break

You who streaks the sky with her presence

You who will not be muted

Whose saturation outlives her

Whose words may not, but in the hearts of her followers

You who believes not in the oversoul or in any soul but only in now

How brave it is to be now

Only now

How brave you were

And how brave you taught me to become

You taught me that fear will choke and smother and strangle and lent me a belly full of fire to make it repent

You showed me the early coffin I was crammed into and handed me a crowbar and a shovel

You were the first and last to tell me that all “I” was all I needed to be

Be I big or small

You taught me how to swim in static

Taught me not to apologize for me

Taught me that life is horrible

That life is beautiful

That monstrous existence is eternal and far too short

That when we all look at the same thing

We all see something different

We all think something different

We are all different

We are all drops of paint in an impossibly vast mosaic and that is beautiful

We are beautiful

You are beautiful

Maybe that’s looking at it in a different way

For you

Maybe

But it was always obvious for me

You always never fit

You were always too big and too small

Your stem was too easily cut

Your roots far too durable to

Your flower, too full a flourish for the planned bouquet

Too bright

Unignorable in the cement

Uncooperative in a garden

That they would spit on you and call you weed

That they would tread on you and burn your seed

But when you call out to me your scent lets me soar

But not like you

Like me

Like who I need to be

Like you told me

It always comes back around to you,

Doesn’t it Fae?

This poem is about: 
Me

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