Light Filters In: Poems

by Caroline Kaufman

I remind myself that poets always have been just people who think too much, who feel too much, who soothe their aches with the only thing that makes sense: words.

that’s why you need to fight to stop it, fight to stop spinning, fight to get out. get out of that infinite sadness. get yourself out of that goddamn door.

completely unaware of the infinite universe that was just beginning to form between us.

I try to remind myself that the brain is an organ, that this is a disease, that diabetics need insulin and no one thinks of that as cheating.

you can either make a graveyard or a garden. you can either rot or grow.

I am still learning to let myself grow. I am still learning that it is not selfish to let myself become the person I am meant to be.

what a relief it is to live a life I am excited to wake up to.

I’m learning to live again. I see passion and joy and love

I know happiness is not a final destination or a resting place. that is okay.

be grateful that time will heal the wounds but leave the scars. how else will you remember all that you’ve survived?

I will start a fire you cannot control.

don’t ask for respect; demand it. don’t look for opportunity; grab it. don’t add to the world; change it.

she does not allow her life to revolve around his. instead, she takes his hand and they orbit each other, moving through the night sky.

both on their own paths, but pulled together as they tumble through the nothingness.