On Not Hiding

from Out With Lantern, a daily poetry practice

I usually hide my sorrow,
wait until it’s gone before I allow
it fresh air or invite anyone in. 
I sit behind locked doors and 
shame squats outside, guarding me 
from judges who might call me 
too sensitive, histrionic, emotional. 
But I am a woman who has 
reclaimed pride in her emotion.
So this time, early in my sorrow, 
I made shame stay home, and
I went to a party. I let my chin quiver 
every time I mentioned my daughters, 
and lovely people shared stories 
of their own newly quiet homes, 
put their arms around me,
offered me more tequila–
all of it a salve to my aching heart.
The next day, at a gorgeous gathering 
in a tender neighbor’s flower-filled
backyard, I read poetry aloud 
like my heart wasn’t bruised, 
every person there reminding me 
that though we may feel sorrow,
we can find solace in one another, 
and sometimes, miraculously, 
when you open the door and let the light in,
kindness arrives and one soul truly sees another, 
nary a judge in sight. 

Me reading poetry in said lovely neighbor’s backyard. Thank you Jen Cavenaugh for hosting, and thank you Alexandra Manolis for this photo. What a beautiful afternoon it was!