If I could somehow split
my head in parts
and allow multitudes inside
to comfort and cleanse
what they found there,
I would.
Open my face
like a Vault door.
Let in anyone
who offered to help.
I would.
Asking for help
is not my thing
because in the past when I
was far less what I am now,
too often the helpers
acted more like vandals
or thieves; it is hard
to open my head now
knowing what’s been
stripped or taken.
If I could open my present
as I have opened my past
I might find a future.
Saying that is so easy
it must be false.
Saying that is so easy
and I am not.
Saying I will open the vault doors
of my eyes, shut the alarm
of my mouth, and then let anyone in
who offers?
Saying it like that
is like ending a story
too early. Like
killing off the hero
before they even start
the journey.