In London, I finally
understood to be happy,
I can’ t regret. I can’t
be the ballerina in
a box waiting for
someone to turn
the key, trapped on
a platform of fear.
The key belongs to
me. I am the music.
I chose when I dance.
I discovered this while
navigating my way around
the city.
I became wanderlust in
leather boots, pleasantly,
disoriented by the
history. The city itself
a museum. On my own
for the first time. Alone,
with the wind of my mind.
I started to realize
that this “delicate” little
flower could survive
without water, that it
could grow anywhere.
I didn’t know it then
but my own history
was falling into place
as if Aristotle had flown
in from Greece (by way of
Great Beyond Air) to
help me make sense
of life.
It’s the little things
that change us,
that help us gain
knowledge of ourselves
the self that sometimes
needs to shatter.
Getting lost in
Greenwich Park
Sitting on a bench
unseen in the fog.
The bird that refused
my bread.
(The little bastard)
I swear I heard him chirping
stop trying to be responsible
for fixing everyone
Sitting in a cafe debating
the work of Turner after
visiting the Tate.
Just missing the
train for the airport.
Stopping by the gift
shop selling postcards
of London Bridge and
plastic keychains, making
me realizes I’ve had
enough of disposables.
Waltzing into pubs
and new situations.
Dizzy from dancing.
and finally believing
I knew the steps
Finally understanding
the beauty of missteps.
-Tosha Michelle
Everything I Never Told You 