past year

This year start­ed amidst a storm
pray­ing we would keep our pow­er
and fol­lowed like that most of the year

My new ther­a­pist upon meet­ing me
di­ag­nosed me with oceans of grief
be­hind my eyes and pre­scribed cry­ing once a week
I told him i’d been do­ing that for the last few years

Right when I caught my bal­ance the sky split open
and I held my hero’s hand as he left
wait­ing for me to catch my breath be­fore he
said good­bye in a lan­guage that sound­ed
like sur­ren­der to the un­trained ear

The pas­tor re­as­sured us that he went to heav­en
I put the choir to­geth­er my­self to sing his fa­vorite songs
placed di­a­monds in his crown
said every­thing there could not be left to say
and put on 50 pounds swal­low­ing my grief

This year I did it all sober as a nun
ex­cept for those two CBD joints in Puer­to Rico
but I’m pret­ty sure you set me up be­cause
I didn’t think I would get high and
it was Dia de los Muer­tos and
you thought we need­ed to talk
I heard him laugh­ing­ly ques­tion me that night
why I would come to par­adise to cry
that there was enough warm, salty wa­ter here
so I de­cid­ed to have an ad­ven­ture for every­time you didn’t

This year they hon­ored me with
a key to the city I fell in love with
The ghosts all wore their best to the cer­e­mo­ny
Ernie says it’s just brass and he can burn the mayor’s name off and put what­ev­er I want.
I tell the kids every time they bring it up that they
are the real key to the city
be­cause they are

This year the mu­sic saved me again
as it al­ways does
it helped me dance and cry when I need­ed to (once a week at least)
held me close and kept me safe
while em­brac­ing all the flaws i’ve dragged to the sur­face
in or­der to breathe
deep­er

This year I wrote two of my best pieces of work
One a poem for the city that I love
and one a farewell for my fa­ther
Both of them I con­tin­ue writ­ing every day.

This year I sat at the foot of a moun­tain
con­tem­plat­ing what mak­ing it move
would re­al­ly take
I left more than even I knew
in a place I nev­er thought I would go
Thank you Wyoming for your clar­i­ty.

This year I sat still al­most every time I need­ed to
ate fruit from trees I’d plant­ed a life­time ago
sweet­er than I’d ever imag­ined
bit­ter as they had to be
to make me plant again this sea­son

I’ve seen stars and waves in ways
that I nev­er had
touched God in ways I nev­er want­ed
cried out to si­lence in ways that only heal
once they’ve bro­ken you
and re­mem­bered there are still dreams to have

to just be
ful­ly and wild­ly
un­apolo­getic as a riv­er cur­rent
and life­times more in­ten­tion­al
so that the only thing left when you leave
is the kind of love that
nev­er los­es pow­er
de­spite the storms around us.

 

 

—an­dru de­f­eye

 

smooth wa­ters nev­er made a skilled sailor    —f d r

Flom­mist An­dru De­f­eye is the Guer­ril­la Poet Lau­re­ate of Sacra­men­to. Copy­right © 2023 An­dru De­f­eye. ty Aman­da.

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