No Going Back

Every so often I will feel the itch

The regression, reminder of time

gone by. I will remember what

it was like in the dark days, before

I knew what it meant to see light.

My fingers crawl to the phone, wishing

I could text my mother, call my father.

Hear the love and care in their voice,

when they tell me I am doing good.

I do the little things to reach accomplishment;

arrive early to my flight, despite 

having ADHD. I make friends with flight

attendants, despite my social anxiety.

I live every day because I am here,

and part of me wonders if I'm supposed to be.

Rebecca died a long time ago. I killed 

that part of myself, so I could move on,

move forward, be reborn. A better version

of the me that used to be.

See, that's what no one tells you, when

you feel as though you're out of options.

You don't have to kill yourself to be reborn.

You just have to know you are worthy 

to keep moving forward.

I haven't written poetry, not in a long

time. I miss the way my fingers curve out 

beautiful symbols and meaningless tales.

I wonder if the poetic part is still

here, trapped somewhere beneath 

my pressed down darkness. 

We keep a part of ourselves, so we can learn. 

We remember so we may move forward, one foot

in front of the other, knowing we are making

a change, and knowing there is 

no going back. No going back to the 

dark places. My demons have shriveled up,

curled back into a cave, a faraway place

that has no place in my soul. Today,

the light outshines the darkness.

I made it this far.

I will make it farther. 

There is no going back.

Rivi D

July 2, 2019