speak to the world, they said.
let your words pierce the hearts of millions,
let your text strike the page and transcend every line,
let your work be the studies of disciples everywhere,
become wisdom incarnate, a somehow trusted authority
bare your soul, they said.
let them see all of the things you hold deep and true,
let them use you as a sounding board for impossible dreams,
let them keep you paralyzed as their world falls apart,
become a misery machine, a hapless overseer pinned to the sidelines.
reach out to the lost, they said
let the hotlines and the movements do the work,
let the counselors do the material direction,
let the professionals stay in their lane,
become an infiltrator, an ambassador to the broken, a tool.
and so, with no degree or personal mastery,
i have found myself the keeper of lives,
holding a pandora's box of other's memories
close to my chest as i sleep and dream
about wrists and hearts in the middle of the night.