You’ll See
People look at me sometimes,
then look away;
judging without saying a word.
“I would never let myself get like that,”
they think.
“I would handle it better.
I would be stronger than him.”
I see it. I hear it, even when they don’t speak.
And I laugh to myself;
not from joy, not from spite,
just that hollow, tired laugh
you give when someone talks shit about things they know nothing about.
You think you’d do better?
You reckon I’m weak?
You haven’t got a fucken clue.
You didn’t hold her hand
moments after she took her last breath.
You didn’t carry that silence home.
You didn’t wake up the next day
with no reason to even move,
but still did.
You don’t live with the weight I do.
You don’t know what it’s like
to cry so hard your body gives out.
To scream without making a sound
because you’ve got no voice left.
But one day; and I don’t wish it on you; you’ll lose someone.
You’ll be cracked open, all fucked up,
nothing left but the noise of grief,
and fading memories.
And when that day comes,
when your world fucken ends,
you’ll remember me.
And then you’ll finally get it.
Not because I want you to suffer,
but because it’s the only way
you’ll understand what it’s like to still be breathing
after your heart’s already died.
So go on, judge.
Laugh if you need to.
But just know;
you’ll see.
One day.
You’ll fucken see.
September 2024.
When we hear of someone in need, why do we say, “I wish someone could help them,” or “I wish I could help”?
Why do we speak as if help belongs to someone else, as if kindness is always waiting on another person to act first?
Maybe the world changes the moment we stop wishing and start saying, “I will help them.”
Not because we can save everyone, but because too many people are still waiting for a someone who never comes.
