A Word For The Earthquake
Danielle is a professional left- and right-brainer–she’s a freelance artist and works in communications at an education non-profit in Los Angeles. She deeply believes in the power of poetry as a cathartic tool and means of compelling storytelling. Danielle is an east coast native, former high school teacher, and breakfast lover. One day, she hopes to complete a New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle without any help.
I know you are angry
I know it’s your job
to rattle us into momentary fear
to test what we are made of
I get it—when I
do not know what I stand for,
how do I expect to keep
standing when you come?
If you are coming for honesty,
then honestly, you already know
how often I am waiting for applause,
the way my ugly motives
have constructed such beautiful things
but here I am anyway, trying again and again
to make normal out of being normal and
having nothing impressive to report,
while I’m learning how impressive it is
to move slow enough that I can feel
the wind on my skin,
that I can hold still
even at the boney rattle of your shake
Isn’t this what you came for anyway?
This skyscraper stripped to its naked
truth is yes, I am afraid.
And that’s perhaps the bravest confession
you can have me make.
I am losing my hollow strength.
It feels like freedom
to level my own intentions
before you can,
ready to risk some rubble
for the sake of starting again.