it came to me in a dream

thanksgiving

thank you. 

it hurt in the moment. 

when your actions would freeze, catch me in frenzies 

of Confusion, of Want. 

it hurt, and when it did, I wished it hadn't. 

so I picked up a pen and decided I would give life

to your Spears, to your Arrows. 

and I wrote them all down, word for word, letter for letter. 

in blue ink, in black ink. In red ink that sank into 

the Blank pages, cut and drew forth from their shallow whiteness 

some sort of interiority that I had known not before. 

I scarred those pages with your hurt. 

my fingers trace now over the healing bumps. 

so thank you. 

it was you who reminded me of what I could do with a pen and paper. 

thank you for the confusion, for the yes and no's breathed all at once, 

the touches and jeers dealt with the same hand. 

thank you.