Mostly hidden is

the realization that closing the door on the house I’ve built

can be an intricate process

especially given my need to

double

15

go back and do it again

check

to ensure that yes,

there really is a monster under that bed.

The knowledge that once you can tear yourself away

from the checking

and the monster

you will be free.

The Liberation cleansing ritual

that I invented just now in a bathroom mirror,

under 2 out of 3 working lights

that involves in part

using my own fresh tears as warpaint

and praying to myself.

The scars I have given myself over the years

are mostly hidden by laughter,

some necessitate long skirts and anecdotes of ninja attacks

but I assure you,

the truth is not dinner convo

only rare and selective coffee talk

and then still with mostly averted eyes.

I mostly hide the fact that

if I wake up for any reason between the hours of 4 and 8 a.m.

there is a good chance I will be struck by the jolting nauseating panic

of being equally frightened of dying and living

and the certainty that both

will kill me.

And that I wish someone would comfort me back to sleep

because it’s exhausting.

Mostly hidden is the moment you know

your path is changing,

and even if you feel the electricity in the air

the moment of the shift still strikes

like out of season lightening,

and you’re filled with white bright knowing

and the smell of your best laid plans

ablaze.

Cosmic aptitude tests find Dawn ideally suited to be a gypsy poet, or your imaginary friend. She’s developed a few more marketable skills, thanks to Mother Necessity. Her current (unmarketable) obsessions include lemons, Sharpies and various shades of green. She is a contributor to ForgetTheBox.net, thrilled to bits when people read (and preferably enjoy) her words. See what falls out in 140 characters or less @McMoxy.

~

Editor: Thaddeus Haas

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