Years spent talking one’s self out of doing The Thing.

Fingers back and forth on the skin,

desperate to find something to pick at.

Nights at the sink mirror dreaming up scenarios;

only to spend days building up the narrative of their demise.

And then, the moment arrives when one is ready to finally step out.

And materialize.

Only to find that there is no more time:

it’s run out.

It’s both now or never, and, way too late.

But, rather than forgetting about The Thing,

it’s imperative to do it. Do it now.

Now more than ever.

To delay it would mean to let more fear set in and spread

like the wet ink at the corner of that paper. Again.

There is no more time for paralysis.

This moment requires the willingness to actualise.

Doing it now is the buoy. Otherwise, there is only plunging.

Now. Because there is no alternative.

What if something preposterous happens.

Something horrific. Genocidal even?

(The worst has happened.)

What if the country burns to the ground

and the people in it are both the ignition and the ashes?

(Human beings are burning alive.)

It’s now. or it’s never.

So stop. Because you’re being out run.

Dig your heels in the ground, plant your roots and flourish.

Once filled with favourites:

words and books and songs and films and places and people.

That same mind is now consumed only

by a rotation of existential questions,

a noose around the neck.

Between the moment of brushing the last teeth

and spitting out the paste,

there is so much decay and death piling up.

There is no time for self inflicted pain.

Words run out if room is not made for them.

So make room.

This dictionary of deliberately chosen vocabulary

will dictate the narrative that accompanies the long road ahead.

Of being here and now and staying put.

So stop what you’re doing or walk the plank.

Plunge your face into that soapy sink water,

and then, start to bloom.

It’s terrifying to consider. Blooming.

Quiet surrounds the sink as its’ rim is being gripped so tightly,

terror looking into that mirror one more time.

When finger are ready to peel away, and lids ready to slumber,

lay down, then pray.

When freedom is confined to the walk

from the bathroom to the bed.

Pray.

Pray even if America stands to ruins everything.