A Love Letter to My Print Out of the New Yorker Weinstein Piece
When I didn’t think
I had what it took
I carried you with me.
I had run out of articles,
I begged a friend to print you out.
You became my lifeline.
Your torn edges,
Your faded ink,
Your worn out creases.
When I stood before him,
Battered, Bruised, like you,
I hid you,
Close to my heart.
I took you everywhere.
Every new person
I confessed to,
You were there.
Between my fingers,
Hidden in Too-Big-Sweatshirt pockets,
Designed to let me
Hide the shame.
I would twiddle with you,
While you lay
With your pulitzer,
Amongst gum wrappers
Pens, my algebra homework,
And some dimes.
In a quiet moment,
When I didn’t think I could make it through the day,
I’d sit with you, and read.
I was reminded of the
Resilience,
Defiance,
And Courage,
Emblazoned on your pages.
I read of
Ambra Battilana Gutierrez
Mira Sorvino
Rosanna Arquette
And all the others,
Who risked it all,
To protect others.
I was reminded of Ronan,
Who risked it all,
To listen.
If you could do it,
Me Too.