this year

This year I was a re­nais­sance.
This year I put ros­es on graves I prayed I’d nev­er see.
This year I found out how threat­en­ing I am to some of these pro­fes­sors.
This year I worked less for more.
This year I re­al­ized who my friends were.
This year I learned that if you see the way out it doesn’t mat­ter if you want to lead.
This year I let my­self rest and sketched big dreams.
This year I went far­ther than I ever have.
This year I felt big­ger than I ever have.
This year I learned just how far my I love you echoes.
This year I was healthy.
This year I prac­ticed grat­i­tude and hunt­ed joy.
This year I didn’t miss an op­por­tu­ni­ty to be in the wa­ter.
This year I didn’t hy­per­ven­ti­late.
This year I ac­tu­al­ly told some­one when I was hav­ing a freeze re­sponse.
This year I start­ed cut­ting my dad’s hair.
This year I made side­walks into dance floors.
This year I lit­er­al­ly walked through fire and un­der­stood how much breath means.
This year I stopped dress­ing my demons up.
This year I start­ed writ­ing all of it down.
This year I took pic­tures of beau­ti­ful women around the world.
This year I got stood up for the first time.
This year I learned I how deeply in love I can fall with ideas.
This year I had a lot of firsts for the sec­ond time.
This year I cried in pub­lic when the mu­sic told me to.
This year I ate cro­quettes in Brook­lyn.
This year I found out they’re go­ing to put my words on a stat­ue.
This year I was nom­i­nat­ed for an hon­orary doc­tor­ate.
This year I told a bunch of kids to lis­ten to them­selves more than their teach­ers.
This year I told a bunch of peo­ple with mon­ey to pay the artists cre­at­ing their world.
This year I read po­ems along­side lit­er­ary leg­ends and out­law his­to­ri­ans on sa­cred days.
This year I wrote po­ems down that na­ture whis­pered while I was work­ing on not pay­ing at­ten­tion.
This year I stared at more sun­sets than meet­ing agen­das.
This year I learned to watch the cor­ner of her lips to see how she re­al­ly feels about it.
This year I pushed my­self gen­tler.
This year I put my dog in more of my po­ems.

This year I be­came my most beau­ti­ful yet.
 

 

—an­dru de­f­eye

Flom­mist An­dru De­f­eye is the Guer­ril­la Poet Lau­re­ate of Sacra­men­to. Copy­right © 2021 An­dru De­f­eye.

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