by Ela Heeley
The world, it sees me. Finally sees me,
as I walk the roads that looked so grim just months ago.
It catches me off guard with its brightness, noise, its duality,
its inexplicable ability to yearn and grow both at once.
Perhaps I am seen because I now see the world,
the view from all the way up and all the way down.
Its wholeness spelled out to me in culture, language,
the kindness I am shown when I smile.
I am not sure what switched when she left, or he changed,
when distance needed was distance forced –
when the clock struck midnight I could breathe
and hold what hurt with space for good.
So forgive me if I do not flow as I used to.
I am neither manic nor deep in melancholy.
My peace is said as it should be done, my wits are about me,
and outwards I look to myself.