What There Is To Learn

What there is to learn

comes in between the sobs,

the dark glasses,

the furious emails trying to explain and explain.

It comes after the sleepless nights

and endless hours of stomach flips.

It comes in dreams,

anxiety ridden dreams of fathers

wearing wigs and suits,

they have never worn before,

hiding in closets,

molesting their daughters.

It comes in foreign languages,

where words have two meanings

and you can’t understand either.

It comes in backrooms of libraries,

books on the floor,

phones silenced like electric heartbeats.

It comes by saying, “no” when you want to say, “yes”,

and ,“yes” when you want to say, “no.”

It comes in chasing when you want to walk away.

It comes when abandonment takes the steering wheel

and drives like a lunatic across town

to feed an ex-boyfriend’s dog a burger.

It comes when you finally get quiet enough to listen,

to hear that part of your self that knows why it aches

so badly,

and why it can’t get present inside its own body,

no matter how hard it tries.

It comes with the knowledge that learning never comes

easily or without painful stimuli,

unless you’re fucking blessed.

It comes when you realize that

“they” aren’t the ones,

“their” actions,

“their” words,

don’t matter.

What matters is the wounds.

Only the wounds.

It comes when you finally understand

that the reason you are acting so crazy today

started years ago.