CALL ME BELOVED

The self-help book said that shame and silence
are quiet companions – the corollary point being
you can fight shame by fighting the silence; but
I’m bad at reading rooms, and when I’m loudest –
well, people get scared.

I’m the price for the joy, the longing and lonely
which comes after, the ringing in your ears and
not warm like fresh sheets, not a gentle breeze
I’m all hard ground, thin clothes, freezing wind,
the reckoning in the recollecting; it’s loud, but

not loud like singing, not loud
like contagious, sleepy laughter,
not loud like sunlight breaking through
morning blinds piercing the black,
I’m loud like heartbreak,
loud like a burn ward,
I’m loud like a bruise
but that just means
you’re stuck with me
a while, I linger, but
at least I am loud,
can’t ignore me, now