2:47 (or ‘things you need to know’)

1.

The first time you are shown our family tree,
know that you are not made of roots. Know
that you are not a tree trunk held in place
by the memory of your ancestors. And even if at
times you feel their anger coursing through your
blood, know that we all have monsters in the
knots of our chromosomes,

but you, darling, are not defined by the demons
in your DNA.

2.

The first time you awaken to blushing sheets,
know that there is a battle wound between your
legs that will not scar for decades to come
and every twenty-eight days, you will be reminded of
everything you lost in this war you did not wage,

but my darling, know that you will always be my
brave little warrior and that I pray that you
find your peace before the blood dries up.

3.

The first time your heart takes up a task other
than pumping blood, know that it is normal to
melt at the mention of someone’s name, that it is
okay to want to stitch your skin to the one you love,
that falling can sometimes build instead of break you,
and even if you end up in pieces,

my darling, know that breathing love out into the air,
however selfishly, is never something to be regretted.

4.

The first time you find yourself breaking at 2:47 am,
looking for words that have not yet been invented,
know that you got that from your mother,

and child, the only monster under your skin that
you will never be able to fight is poetry.

5.

The first time you find yourself breaking at 2:47 am,
longing for pieces of yourself you left in notebooks,
know that writing is all about shedding your skin until
you are see-through,

and darling, I know being transparent hurts, I know how
much it aches to rip your skin apart and stick your veins
on paper for the world to see,

I know it wears you out. But I got it from my mother, too,
and darling, know that I wouldn’t know how to rid
you of it either.

6.

The first time you find yourself breaking at 2:47 am,
know that it is my fault.

7.

The first time you find yourself breaking at 2:47 am,
find a pen. Spill it out.

8.

The first time you find yourself breaking at 2:47 am,
put yourself back together again and make me proud.

9.

The first time you find yourself breaking at 2:47 am
and I’ve already gone,

find me in your words.

Resuscitate me with your ink.

Know that I am sleeping on every page of every notebook
you own, and my darling,

even in my nonexistence, you are still my favorite poem.