Poetry found me by my bedside table,

heart contained within a dimly lit mind,

I could not find the light switch.

Poetry found a foolish girl,

one with storybook hands,

feet that liked to skip chapters

and run to the part about the hero.

But i never knew how to save me from myself.

Poetry found the hurricane within my timid chest,

taught me that you can touch, love, and lose

without leaving behind ruins or a sad story.

I learned that you don’t need to leave a haunting.

Poetry found me when I couldn’t,

reminded me of why we still keep our eyes open

when we swallow darkness for breakfast,

that we are entire universes learning how

not to become the black holes that bruise our eyelids.

Poetry held my hand tenderly

until that hand became my own.