Poems by Lauren Bowman

I don’t need to be the sun;
the center of it all.
Always present.
Always burning.

I mean, have you seen
how beautifully the fireflies dance
on warm summer nights?

Give me that peace.
That light.
That choice.
The ability to surround myself in darkness,
or to subtly, yet brilliantly
glow.

How about sad but hopeful.
Lonely but looking inward.
Resting but planning your next step.

How about fumbling but trying.
Anxious but learning patience.
Questioning but at peace with not having
an answer yet.

How about unsure but trusting.
Scared but overcoming.
Lost but knowing it’s about the journey
in the end.

You’re not alone in this; you know that, right?
There are others like you.
Hiding. Running. Wishing
for a desire they keep hidden
            (but terrified of it coming true)
Swaying. Hoping. Begging
for change.
            (but terrified of something new)
Hesitant but leaping.
Whole but looking for what they’ve lost.
Wanting the world to see them
but unsure of who they are.

I thought it was your light
that kept me,
that guided me,
but when you left and the darkness came,
I found it was not you
who glowed;

It was me.

Even when you feel like a million scattered pieces,
you are still whole.
Even when you’re unsure of the path you’re walking,
you still have purpose.
Even when your lover leaves you empty and begging,
you are still loved.
Even when you’ve tried and tried and failed and failed,
you are still worthy.
Even when;
especially when.

When you cross my mind,
my stomach no longer crisscrosses itself.

When that song comes on,
my heart no longer beats to its rhythm.

When I walk down our street,
my hands no longer feel empty without yours in them.

But you’re always on my mind,
and I play that song on repeat,
and my feet always seem to take me straight
to that street.

You can be unhappy and still be in love.
You can be in love and still walk away.
You can walk away and still feel the weight of loss.
You can feel the weight of loss and still stand tall.
You can stand tall and still be grieving.
You can be grieving and still find joy.
You can find joy and still miss what you had.
You can miss what you had and still long
for more.

Let them miss you.
Let them wonder what wild joy you’re chasing,
why you didn’t think to invite them along.
Let them hear your laughter from afar,
watch as it pulls the sun from the sky,
marvel at how easily you become that light.
Let them yearn to be your moon,
long for a chance to reflect the warmth you provide,
admire how you can be so vibrant and alive
without them beside you.

Let them miss you.
Let yourself learn how okay you are
on your own.

When you left,
I immediately deleted your number and pictures
and pulled our memories from the wall.
This is my strength.
This is how I know I’ll survive.
I cried as I erased you,
but I erased you anyway.
I wished you back,
but I still opened my hands
and let you go.