Hand on Heart
the original title of this was 'old crones'
Hand on heart,
I used to be a good person.
Before I realized that hashbrowns were not
just a plate full of onions
Before I lost interest in
beanie babies and porcelain dolls
Before I switched from coffee to matcha
Before I learned how not to laugh at my own jokes
Before I learned how not to laugh at my own jokes
and laughed anyway
Before this dark sense of humor
was earned
Before scraped knees and squished fingers and sprained ankles
Before I started to sound
a little grown up
Before I started to look a little grown up
Before I started to be big
Before my first weigh-in
Before my first scale
Before I threw out my first scale and
bought another one
Before pinched nerves and styes and pelvic floor issues
Before my hips started to hurt from simply
standing still
Before the mirror started to taunt me with
wrinkles and dull eyes
Before my body started needing
more than one tune-up per year
Before I got older
Before my frontal lobe fully developed
Before I worried more about survival
than levity and laughter
Before my chest was always tight
and my sleep, never good
Before the first time I laid in bed
the second time, the one-hundredth time
and begged the universe to not let tomorrow be the day when
that phone call comes
Before the anxiety attacks
Before the coping mechanisms for
the anxiety attacks
Before ‘good enough’ became ‘fine’
and ‘bad’ became a shoulder shrug
Before you asked and
I always delivered
Before I was a delivery person
Before we didn’t know how to talk anymore
Before I considered every word in a text, email, conversation
Before I considered and reconsidered every word
Before being in a museum was a lost art
and so was ‘please’ and ‘thank you’
Before the noises in my apartment building
were louder than Times Square after
the theatres let out
Before every passing car was
a honking car
Before someone was always pissing in
the parking lot of the abandoned Rite Aid
at the end of my block
Before the social contract saw
the sun and we discovered its signatures
were written in invisible ink
Before the caretaking had to be
subtle to distract the
oppressors and protect
the beloveds
Before I saw the toll
Before the future of the
history of the world
got to me
Before
Before I knew that before
always has an after
Before I learned that life is made up of little moments
and not big experiences
Before I actually started to believe it
Before I learned there are all sorts of people in the world
Before I learned that being a ‘good’ person is
often circumstantial
Before I figured out how to notice
Before I figured out how to see
Before I noticed the quiet
Before I noticed the quiet strength and bravery
the quiet care and resilience
the quiet talent and intelligence
the quiet heart
Before I saw all those things
loud too
Before I had so many teachers
Before they introduced me to curiosity
Before they taught me that I can hold
more than I realize
Before they taught me that all people always
hold more than you know
Before they showed me we are wildly complex
Before they ingrained in me that to stop at ‘good’
is to stop your own growth
Hand on heart,
I’m trying to be a better person.
The caretakers aren’t approaching. They’re already here.
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