The Poet X

by Elizabeth Acevedo

Your silence furnishes a dark house. But even at the risk of burning, the moth always seeks the light.

I feel like a ship at sea: all the possibilities to end up anywhere I want, all the possibilities to be lost.

I can’t remember the last time people were silent while I spoke, actually listening.

it’s nice to know I don’t need him in order to feel listened to.

Because at least here with her, I know my words are okay.

the more I bruise the page the quicker something inside me heals.

The way the words say what I mean, how they twist and turn language, how they connect with people. How they build community.

I finally know that all of those “I’ll never, ever, ever” stemmed from being afraid

the more I write the braver I become.

heaving the words like weapons from my chest; they’re the only thing I can fight back with.

“Burn it! Burn it. This is where the poems are,” I say, thumping a fist against my chest.

If I were nothing but dust would anyone chase the wind trying to piece me back together?

I will never let anyone see my full heart and destroy it.

his cologne a cloud of so many memories I didn’t even know we’d made.

my poems, my words, my thoughts, the only place I have ever been my whole self,

When has anyone ever told me I had the right to stop it all without my knuckles, or my anger, with just some simple words.

my mother’s ears are soundproof when it comes to me.

But our arms can do what our words can’t just now. Our arms can reach. Can hug tight. Can teach us to remember each other.

love can be a band: tears if you pull it too hard, but also flexible enough to stretch around the most chaotic mass.

he doesn’t leave. He listens.

I’m trying to convince myself rewriting means the words really mattered in the first place.

She tells me words give people permission to be their fullest self. And aren’t these the poems I’ve most needed to hear?

I believe you’re strong enough to defend yourself and me at the same time, but I’ll always have your back, and I’ll always protect your heart.”

Dancing is a good way to tell someone you love them.”

It’s about any of the words that bring us together and how we can form a home in them.

I only know that learning to believe in the power of my own words has been the most freeing experience of my life. It has brought me the most light. And isn’t that what a poem is? A lantern glowing in the dark.