poem - Safe

Safe

Sometimes there is stuff

that seeps out of us

Stuff that is not pretty

that was deep dark down 

inside

shoved deep dark down

the silt at the bottom

where no one has to see it

where no one can see it

but no

that stuff

bubbles up and

oozes out of your pores

and the cracks of your dry skin

damp

sticky

ugly

black

muck

and you can’t wash it off

it has to be scraped

rubbed

flicked off your fingernails

onto this paper.

Onto this paper.

And what do you do with it.

You can’t give it away.

This is not a gift.

This is not poetry.

It’s not nice

and it’s not pleasing

and it’s not even meant

for anybody else

it just is.

But it has to go somewhere.  

You can’t keep it anymore.

It came out of you and it has to 

keep going out.

So maybe you open your window

and fling it

away

and maybe the wind catches it.

Maybe it is tossed and flung

through branches and brambles and maybe it shreds

into nothing.

But maybe

after it blows and drifts

maybe

just maybe

it splats into someone

wraps around their leg.

And maybe that person

peels it off

and takes it home

and lays if gently on their kitchen table.

Maybe that person tenderly smooths out the wrinkles

and wipes away most of the tears

and leans in

and breathes of so softly

a whisper to a frightened thing

hush

hush 

it’s okay 

you’re safe now

you’re home.

khfc