how many characters

Take this ink.

Put a stamp on all things that are good

And you’ll be happy when you spot them again.

Because you’ve taken

Stop being shy

Open up, say something

While you stood and thought

How come you want me to now?

The last time I said something,

You told me it was wrong.

You said no, not that

So I hushed and looked at my hands

And you asked me why.

Didn’t they say

Come on out, we don’t bite

And you saw their candle flicker eyes and you knew

You didn’t want to because

You still scratch at the bandages that prove

They do bite.

Look at your quiet, folded hands

Your fingers that fit better with each other

Than with anybody else’s.

Look at how good they are.

Many times you’ve been told speak up

Stop mumbling

We can’t hear you.

I am speaking up

Can’t you hear me screaming?

Can’t you hear me?

Can’t you--

But they weren’t trying to hear you,

They only knew how to listen with one ear.

Even still

They clutch your face in their black needle claws

And they say look at me

Look at my eyes when I speak to you

But, it stings.

I’m sorry, I’m trying

It stings!

Look at the smooth, linoleum floor

As the adults talk over

“A cure”

“A solution”

A drug.

See how the light on the floor turns to white clouds

As you blink the storm down.

Look at how good that is.

You know the day he yelled,

Stop doodling, pay attention

And you tore apart

Your drawing because you were confused

And didn’t want him to take it away.

The time she whispered,

You’re the apple of my eye

And you said,

What?

I’m no fruit . . .

The moment you said

It’s five o’clock

It’s five o’clock.

And Dad raised an eyebrow.

What was that?

But you must not forget

The night she made your face glow merry

And as you beamed

She said Wow,

You have a nice smile.

The morning he said your name

And you were terrified

But he knelt to your side and murmured

You’re doing so well

I’m proud of you, kid.

And remember with a grin that

Dad doesn’t question it anymore.

Dad doesn’t question it anymore.

Thanks, Dad.

Ignore the sighs and worry lines,

Exasperated head shakes.

No more twice-crossed legs and lost thoughts

Or fear of anger-spat words

That come to naught but hurt.

Be the you that twirls alone

Dancing

Where nobody can point at your clumsy limbs

And your apparent lack of rhythm.

For the record,

They never even caught

The faint tune on your breath

That was your own private melody . . .

It was a waltz, not a march,

The fools.

Walk the way you want to.

Your gait is a chorus

And I can guarantee,

It’s quite catchy.

Race your shadow

Through the grass or the snow.

Not out of fear, no

But out of liberty.

No one can tell you which way to go

And if you get lost,

You can follow your stamps.

And if you ever get in trouble

For putting ink on good things,

Go ahead and put

A dozen stamps on your lightning heart

Because nobody can take that away.