She said, “You have healing energy.
Are you always like this?”
I laughed inside and said no,
Realizing I would like to be.

When Trump became president,
Everything became much darker,
And our kitchen lightbulb was dead too.
I realized that I didn’t believe it,
And that I didn’t believe a lot of things…

My desire to drown difficulties:
Pain, struggles, feelings, thoughts
Were sent sinking by a mind-octopus,
Forgetting elements of darkness in depths.

Now a psychological bent,
Mythological longing,
An acceptance that everything is not ok,
Propel me, when they don’t drown me.

I want to be that young girl again,
Confident that I can be completely happy,
That people are mostly good,
That I can do anything I want.

The scales dance in my head,
A logical weigher of choices;
A man’s world and in this way,
A man’s brain.

Do I dislike him because of his masculinity?
I think not, as that is seldom a problem.
Maybe weighing is only partially important;
That the gut is what really matters.

The intuitive feminine is never in denial;
Desired impulses I repeatedly reject,
No longer selfishly going with whims,
My gratification no more important than anyone else’s.

It’s a feeling of him weighing heavier on his own scale;
I am a replaceable chess piece.
Emotion cannot be separated from fact.
Though our culture says fact is more important.

I fear they’re all the same in this regard.
I dream for everything to be ok,
Though it is not the impulse
When the dark tugs so strongly.