How can it
be
How can it be
that someone like me
              that me
                           that I
how can it be
              that I –
                           or you
we
met incalculable odds and met.

Growing pains of inevitableness
emerged from needlepoints
piercing skins
of rich tapestry
threaded in the sores
of my body.

               I
I walked through cold,
I walked alone
              on purpose.
I grew angry,
I held it in,
              I fought shame with narcissism.
I taught myself to get through
what was done
to me by them
              but shifts
              plot twist
I was they/them.
I could not know
              I didn’t think I knew
                              I couldn’t know I didn’t know
or rather knew
the meaning of a slashing
in ornamental facades
until I met you
              until
                              we
                                        met.
May every part of you
digging through rubble
find inconceivableness, too

You feel once in a lifetime
          you may be not
                           I hope you aren’t-
                           (to be honest.)

I yearn for so many of you
meeting.

People like you
crossing paths,
touching hands beyond
         the grasp of agony,
                          the gasps of misery,
the lasts of which,
pause within you and me
           the we
                          (between you and me).

One questioning insecurity left
of who I know myself to be in
this
           in this here
and now:
how, if even
for a short while
how do I live without regrets
                    to meet
                            all
                                         of you?
What I did
to get here
answers:

Let it be.