I wake with the weight of every sorrow sitting on my chest
I am not a morning person,
even after 63 years, it is still a shock
to wake up and face a new day

it is me
I no longer make me wrong
I no longer try to fashion a different me
out of real me,
though I suffered a lot
trying to be the one that woke up,
threw the shutters open
on a world that always looked like Greece –
a blue and white world

and cried out: oh yes, a new day

the one that I am has heavy in her DNA
she is full of weight, and lumbers and lurches,
crashes around, falls down,
crawls on her knees, bumps into walls,
collects bruises, and, still following the breadcrumb trail
Home, to where all this resistance and NO
Is welcome
I mean really fucking WELCOME

The welcoming gig
for which I have a bit of a rep
is not, I repeat, not, for the feint-hearted

it asks me to bring home everything
the most homeless, invisible (until it isn’t)
the most hated, lost, denied, utterly un-held,
unheard, defeated, violent
and hopeless

until there is no homeless left
until I can sit by my own little fire
with every last piece of me

my ferocious original NO
in my blood, body, bones, breath
always will be
always will be
always will be
is by that fireside too
her head down
her rage and pain received
everything loved

nothing to fix, get rid of,
make into something else

just welcomed
just included
just loved

how radically simple is that