For all the wars inside me

Truth one.

I'm not always confident
I never know how to begin any of my poems
Wonder if I know how to use these words
Like I'm supposed to
Worry that I'm not able
Uncomfortable under pressure
Have trouble believing I'll live up to expectation
Can't even write anything for myself anymore
I've flung myself to the mercy of an audience
Attack myself as my own worst critic
I think these days
I want to stop calling myself an artist
Just human
With faults and feelings
Like anyone
And these testaments serve as peace treaties
For all the wars
Inside me

Truth two.

I don't read the news everyday
I wish I were writing more race poems
For the revolution
I don't know all the politics or the war in Iraq
Instead
I find myself fighting a losing battle
With my embarrassingly helpless obsession with love
And yes, I think too much
And if i tell you my most fragile secret
It is that
My worst fear is ending up alone
And I want to write for healing
But all I've got are these aching words
That so eagerly want to take shape of a lover's curve
Bend adjectives to form the brims of eyelids
Swell into belly
Catch fire
After friction
Tremble
Like aching muscles
Exhaling against touch
I miss making love
As much as I miss writing real poems
Like I miss being honest
Like I miss being needed
But for the record-
I believe that lovemaking
Has saved more lives than any protest demonstration
And a kiss
Has freed more of us
Than we will ever give it credit for
Love is a movement
I'm on the frontline
And I'll still keep on fighting

Truth three.

My battles start erupting
Along my sides
In this extra flesh that bulges from my waistline
My belly is where the most of my insecurities gather
The place that mocks me the most
It reminds me I am disgusting
And sometimes it's hard to be inside myself
And I remember how annoyed I am at my mother
Not only for her criticisms
But for inheriting her hips
Tomorrow I wish my clothes will make me feel skinny
Too often I forgot to be beautiful
Curved out like this

Truth four.

I am bare after exposure
Raw like a fresh wound in saltwater
This is the most honest I have been for far too long,
My first real testament in months
I lay it down,
A peace treaty-
For all the wars inside me.