believe me

There's a danger in it, too–

Has anyone ever told you?

In dealing in words–

Truths and half truths and lies

And imaginations and fantasies and reality snuck in

So, why would you believe me

When I told you it was a dream?

I told you,

I know just how to pick out the good parts

Where the light hits just right

When there's kindness in his eyes

I know just the moments to choose

To make you believe

So, tell me–

Why would you believe me 

For a split second

When I tell you

What a dream

This nightmare is?

I PUBLISHED A BOOK OF POETRY

GUYS!!! I finally did it. I published a book of my poetry and you can go buy it right now on Amazon!!!!! Here’s the link: 

On The Way Home: A Collection of Poems, by Olivia Gwyn

I’m screaming. Thank you to everyone on this space who has made me feel like I have something worth saying. I don’t know where I’d be without you guys!!!!

THANK YOU. THANK YOU.

Now look at how pretty she is!!!! The cover is a picture of my backyard where I grew up. Where it all started. Crying. I’m so proud of this little book and I’m so excited for you guys to have it IN YOUR HANDS!! Whoooo!

Go get your own copy HERE.

 

There is a plane passing overhead

Someone heading to Greece 

For the first time in their short life

The sun is shining

And there is so much to look forward to

The birds are playing hide and seek together

And some ladies down the sidewalk join them in laughter

There is a lawn mower running in the distance

The sun goes down so early

As the dog barks at nothing

And I am watching

All my inconveniences 

And the earth laughs in my face with its beauty

I know the world is an ugly place

But tonight I will stop doing the dishes

And listen to the kids down the street play basketball

And watch the dad with a colorful backpack

Walk his child home from school, listening to his day

I will smell the spice of our downstairs neighbor’s dinner

I will hear the birds forgetting it’s almost winter time

I will breathe in the last taste of autumn

I will sit on my little porch

I will watch

What a gift–

Of watching

I will try too hard to remember 

How good it feels to be alive right now

In a world like this

I will try too hard to remember

For the dark days ahead

And for all the days of light shining eternal in the distance

I am asking
For words that are good
 
I am asking 
Because when I am writing 
I am asking
And answering and noticing and searching and learning and realizing and asking again
 
I am asking 
Because these words
Can’t be taken back
 
Because there’s a kind of eternal 
Power in words
Written down
On paper
Spoken to–
 
Who knows?
A thousand minds, hearts
I’ve never met
 
And sometimes,
I am scared

So, God–I am asking
Please make them good

a love poem

I am trying to write a love poem

But it comes out more like being afraid 
And unafraid and completely out of control

I am trying to write a love poem 
But it comes out less like being stripped
And more like the patient unclothing of my soul

I am trying to write a love poem
But it comes out more like being known
And having a friend who doesn’t leave

I am trying to write a love poem
But it comes out less like me and you
And more like a self conscious attempt to show the world the way you make me feel like myself

I am trying to write a love poem
But it refuses to come out like a spectacle
And instead curls up like a kitten in front of the hearth of my heart and nestles there until another night when I will try again to lure it out

Maybe I’d rather it stay anyway

they never tell you

No one ever tells you

How much it all affects you

When you're young

They don't tell you–

These trees, these drives

These hands, this land–

They don't leave you for a long time

This same aching feeling 

This pounding in your chest, 

This sweat on your brow,

The curiosity and confusion,

It's still there

Twenty years later

It's all right under the surface

The burning shame,

The fear in your throat,

At night under the covers

When your mind won't sleep

No one tells you

How you'll always remember

Your favorite shirt in third grade

Or how he made fun of your voice

Or the way your parents touched you

They don't tell you 

How you'll remember 

The absences or

How one angry yell can cover

A whole year of kindness

They don't tell you that

This– right now

It never really goes away

This too is a mercy–

That they don't tell you

That you will do the same thing

lately I am tender

Lately everything

Matters and hurts too much

And I feel young and tender

And jerk back from feeling

Before it takes over

Lately I try to breathe 

Against the hurt of the world

People are dying, wanting,

Fighting, losing, losing,

And I know them all

Lately I count money

To a soundtrack of an empty room

An empty seat at someone's table

And this is all too ugly for a poem

And I hate it and I hate it

And I want it to be gone

Lately I am tender 

But some people can't afford to be

Lately I am tender

And look for gentleness in your face

And I can't always see

But your face too is tender

And it weeps for all these things

why do I do that?

The sun sets in the reflection of the windows 

Facing away

And I wonder what it’s like

Facing away

But I’m still here and I never 

Face that way 

Why do I do that?

Does it ever get easier

Turning away?

how do I say this

How do I say this

Without

Saying what I mean

How do I say this

Without 

Baring my heart

In a thousand 

Uncivilized pieces 

How do I say this

Without 

Running out

In the street

And screaming it

At the top of my lungs 

How do I say this 

Without 

Opening the door 

And letting you in to see 

Broken mirrors on the wall

All the crumpled letters I never sent

And the unfolded laundry from June

How do I say this

Without 

Looking a fool 

Making a fool

Of myself 

And of you

How do I say this

Without 

Risking 

Losing 

Everything

You

My aching bones are stretching in the morning light

The sunlight yawns across the living room floor

My coffee steams and swirls with cream

And I can’t stop myself thinking,

“What did I do to deserve a morning like this?”

The answer comes in the silence of the microwave beep,

“Nothing.”

And it is enough

I know

Been easy to look for

All the right things in

All the wrong places 

So I breathe deep

On my drives 

When I can roll the windows down

I sit still on my couch

Trying not to squirm

My chest an open wound

And I know

I know

I write when 

My mind and 

My heart 

Want to run 

The ink runs deep

Through the page 

Into the earth 

And takes root

And I talk 

Stumbling and then running 

To the one who meets me there

Like friends

And I know

I know 

you don’t know

You don't know about the nights I spent

Listening to the songs you sent

You don't know how many times I played that song on repeat

Listening for something, waiting for the epiphany

I never told you about that

I would've been embarrassed 

That I cared enough

That I didn't understand

That I hated that song

But I'm not embarrassed anymore

Because the epiphany never came

And the song still sucks

And it's weird how the memories can make you feel small

But I was never small nor will I ever be

And I am not waiting anymore

kitchen sink

Your hands are in the sink

They are dirty in the tub

Your back is bending to pick up my mess

Your clothes sweaty in the sun

We are writing a lifetime of love letters

Lost down the kitchen sink drain 

Can you grab me a glass

Do you wanna split
Would you rather stay in
Do you want me to get you anything 

Let me read you this

Have you heard this song

Have you eaten since

I can drive

What do you want to do

The dishes are done

Do you need ibuprofen

Do you wanna watch

Do you want help

I’ll be there in

How was your day

And I am astounded 

At the weight of glory

At every little moment movement and phrase

At the crushing cumulative 

Weight of a lifetime of love letters

Lost and found down the kitchen sink drain

cling

Tonight I walked slowly from the mailbox

The afternoon warm on my skin

It's quiet and I hold onto it like a lifeline

I watch the sun play with the shadows

And I am conscious of how desperate

I am to turn the darkness into light

I hear cars pass by, a few lingering birds

And the shouts of the kids down the road

The neighbors are cooking Indian food

And the smell of spices wafts from the open door

I'm writing lines of poetry in my head 

Before the moment's over

And I am conscious of how desperate

I am to turn the darkness into light 

How I cling to the darkness

How I cling to the light

So I cling to these seconds

Where the light shines through

And I cling

Like a sentenced man

To You

coming of age

What is it about this coming of age

Watching from the sidelines

As your kids do what you've 

Always wanted them to do

You keep repeating

This was the plan

This was it

But the moment comes and

The fear clenches you in the jaw

As you pass your daughter's hand away

And you want to scream and cry and demand

That you be able to trust this man

More than your own body and soul

To respect and love and care for your baby girl

Or you turn to hug your son 

So young and so old, a man

One last time before leaving him 

And it all just breaks

You're embarrassed 

Because he's fine

And this has been 

The plan all along 

But when did it happen?

You watch them walk off

Start the engine

Shut the door and 

Drive away with streamers

Flailing behind them in the wind

And it's hard not to hate it–

The way the happy tears slip and fall

And all the other ones burn and mix with them

Every fear and regret and guilt and foolish love

What is it about summer

That this coming of age thing

Happens over night

Like a firework

Like a slow sunrise

Like the cows coming home

Or a gunshot at dusk

And they're gone

Done, it's over

And you're left wondering why 

Asking for another day

One more minute

When they were just your own

The whole world ahead

And you beside

black and white

How do I paint the sky for you 

In words of black and white

How do I describe my dad to you

Or the way the trees play with the light

I trace your hands along my scar

But you don’t know how it feels

You don’t feel the leather seats in my car

Or my burnt skin after the sun when it peels

Do you hear the supper bell clang

Do you know the woods where we roam 

Do you remember how the crickets sang

Or the sound of the gravel coming home

I try to do my best to paint

These pictures in black and white

You smile and nod but it ain’t

The same–it’s all just black and white

you touch me

You touch me

    –What?
You lay your hands on my body
    –No.

My body is vulnerable
Weak, open
Too open

My body is sexual
And I can't

Stop it

My body is an object
To be used
By the hands laid on it

It is not safe

    –But you are safe.

Your hands, my God

    –They are safe.

Your hands are gentle

Healing

Not intrusive

Your hands,

They hold me

They are only good intentions

You know me. My body. Its scars. Its openness, vulnerability, beauty, sexuality, physicality, spirituality, trauma, insecurity, its comforts and discomforts. You know the darkness, the brokenness, bruises beneath the surface. 

    –Ow, it's still sore there. 

You know. You know the dirt beneath my nails.

    –Is it dirt? I don't remember.

You know the lies that have shaded my eyes, sealed my lips shut.

You know this body. You formed this body of death. You loved this body of death, this house to a soul. You died to redeem it. You laid your hands on me in the grave. I am not clean. I am dirty and it's ugly here and I don't know how to talk about it. You came to me in the dark when I was weak, defensive. I did not know who you were. 

I only knew gentle hands that didn't rip me open, did not tear me down. You do not ask where it hurts. You know all my bruises.

You wore my death in your own body on a tree in your flesh. It rose up in your throat from your lungs, stealing your breath, suffocating you. Yes– you know my shame. You drank it whole. You stole it away from me.

My body is flesh and bones and dust and divine touch

And you lay your hands on this dirt

And make me come alive in your arms

You take me into your house of healing and you touch everywhere it hurts

And I am not afraid

You take the hurt over and over 

I did not know you were taking it 

yourself in through your fingertips 

on my skin

You trade me 

Life for death

Life for death

Life for death

Until it's all that's left

In this body of death

to be seen

He holds me in His strong arms
He wipes my dirty face with His dirty hands,
Rough scarred and gentle

He looks at me
And I am terrified of being seen

He looks at me
And I cannot understand
How absolutely satisfied He is with me

He loves my mind,
The way my hair falls when I wake up
The way I tap my foot when I’m alone

He takes joy and pride in his work in me
That I am who I am, formed in his own mind and heart,
Utterly His own, in His own likeness

He delights Himself in me
In me?
In me

If He is perfect and
He is content with me
He is overjoyed that I am His daughter
He is excited that I am coming home
He is attentive to me and my cries and anger and lostness and joys and laughter and all that makes my aching heart beat faster

If I am His love
And He is mine

Then I can be at rest
In His arms–
In the darkness and the light

I am on my way home
I am coming home to You

even the darkness

Even the darkness

Even the darkness

Even the darkness

I repeat to myself in the darkness

I scream to myself in the darkness

I breathe to myself in the darkness

In the garden

Was it not darkness to you

In the garden

When your sweat and blood mixed with the dirt

And your body weary, strained, crying 

Knowing what was coming next

Were you afraid when you asked your Father to take it away

When you pleaded if there's any other way

Knowing there was none

Did you love him so much it hurt

Was it physical, emotional, spiritual, mental–

The excruciating pain

Did you love me so much it hurt

The thought of being separated, torn apart,

Despised, buried, suffocating, abandoned 

By your friends as you chose to die eternally for them

Was it dark to you then?

It is dark to me sometimes

I see redemption coming

But, here, it is dark

Psalm 139:12