I captioned the photo
And I take one more look at the morning sky
Saying ‘I have found a piece of me in this ocean of light and wonder’
I’m not sure I actually believed it.
Some people believe that their missing parts
Have found their way dancing by the sea,
Scattered across the world, hanging upon a foreign horizon,
Some nights I think maybe mine are just waiting in a quiet subway station,
Some days when the city is far too grey and didn’t seem worth a second look
I think I’d find my missing pieces tucked between the pages of a book.
There are days I fear I’d lose myself in my own skin
With a grating desire to hide behind a lighter shade, lighter hair and a lighter body
When I’m far too fraught and troubled by the heavy weight of labels
And preconception of how someone of my shape and color ought to be.
I’ve seen people lose parts of them in a photograph,
On a barstool, or under somebody else’s sheets
And so they went looking for themselves in kisses,
In “I love you’s” and the comfort of waking up next to someone.
Some people find their fragments tangled with intimacy,
Some in chaos, some in amity, some in songs of joy, some in the drive of pain,
Some in the empty spaces of a gallery and in the violent embrace of thunder and rain.
And then there is me who found myself in conversations,
In an afternoon exchange realizing that freedom does not
Always look like open skies, sometimes it is a small antique shop,
Your own corner of the world unburdened by judgement,
In a friend’s advice that sometimes the most basic of things
Are toughest to learn by heart, and in our unison laughter
While counting the jabs of bad things I had to take
To know just how true that patience indeed is a virtue
And in the query of a person I once loved who keeps asking why I loved him
Despite the fact there aren’t much stars in his eyes
And the rest of him, he deemed “too normal”
And my heart responding, isn’t this how love is supposed to be?
Seeing the beautiful in the ordinary