maria dossett

i’m turning out the lights
to remember how to see
until a renaissance takes place
and resuscitates the color of paint and divinity

when i was 19, i thought i was an enneagram four

the test told me so at least, that my core fear was having no self

and i found company in the despair that held me captive

as if i was only a cave of the misfortune that found me in those dorm walls

as if God hid the building blocks
of every beautiful thing
in this game of hide-and-seek
i can’t help but think that ordinary has swallowed the key

i fell into the motions that felt freeing

i was drank disillusionment like water and 

held myself at arms length

“here is where you are new,

here is where you are different,

you can be her instead of settling for you”

bodies fashioned out of dirt and dust
for a moment we get to be glorious
ice sculptures adorned in light
sand castles built tall in between the tides

but she never came

and i was left with the horrible, disheartening truth

that i was stuck as me

stuck with my self over hers

maybe i’m hiding behind metaphor
maybe my heart needs to break to be sure
one day i’ll wear it all on my sleeve
the insignificant with the sacred unique

and my insides tore open

as the world around me said 

“yes we want you! yes you are lovely!

yes we are so happy you are here!”

they kept sending me invites

birthdays and parties and ordinary days 

overflowed my mailbox

even when i RSVPed as her

but came as me

but i’ve fallen in love with a ghost
and i lost my balance when i needed it most
this blurry photograph is proof
of what i’m not sure but it feels like truth

in the midst of the celebrating

of the breathing and the taking and receiving

i forgot her and who i was supposed to be

i’m stuck swimming in shadows down here
it’s been forever since i came up for air
flashlight in hand determined to find
authenticity only poetry could even begin to try to describe

but because i never saw myself for me

i think i’m drowning sometimes

i still feel faulty and fake and insecure

and in those moments i need her

she has to come back

she can’t be gone

she couldn’t have left me with just me

bodies fashioned out of dirt and dust
for a moment we get to be glorious

He tells me i could never have been loved in any way except for myself

because He never made a her

He made me

carefully crafted, beautifully sewn

He allowed and He caused and He saved

to tell me again and again

“yes we want you! yes you are lovely!

yes we are so happy you are here!”

what if we already are
who we’ve been dying to become
in certain light i can plainly see
a reflection of magnificence
hidden in you
maybe even in me