Where were you
when I stood in the crowd,
paralyzed,
wanting to step onto that stage
at Take Back the Night
and tell my story?

The voice that stopped me
should have been in my corner.

The voice was wrong.
Not me.

Who might I have been
without the seeds of insecurity
planted so young,
and without their gardener
returning to nourish the poison?

How did you know
to tend that one patch
so faithfully?

What else
might have grown there
if you had let it?

Where were you
when a tear fell,
struck the rosary,
and bled into the thin paper
of my Bible?

Jesus was in the room
with me.

You were somewhere else,
holding up His book,
telling people
what He would say about me.

Where were you
when I delivered love?

And why did I already know
to require a signature—
proof that it had reached you?

How sad
that I knew to insure the package.

How sad
that others grew in my care
feeling they needed insurance, too.

Where were you
in the celebrations
I held in your honor?

I was telling the world
how wonderful it was
to know you.

You were slipping out back
to laugh at me
with your friends,
then returning
to call me one of them.

I can’t believe
I ever wanted
on that list.

Where are you now?

The damage is done.
The coast is clear.

I’m finally safe.
Just as I always built towards.

The lights finally shine only upon you,
occupying all of center stage,
just as you always demanded.

Where will you be
when I return?

How will you drown
your own whispers then?

You are
the company you keep.

You keep dancing
with my shadow
and calling it me.

My shadow
never loved you.

My flesh did.
My blood.
My soul.

The silhouette
you toss and twirl on stage
lacks all three.

Still,
what a partner it makes.

Never steps on your toes.
Never interrupts
your version of the dance.

You can fold it
into your pocket
and bring it out
when you need
the shape of me.

How silently it acquiesces your performance of it all.

My outline,
without my voice.

Keep my shadow.

Promenade across
your own ballroom,
with all eyes a gaze.

When the lights fade to black,
my shadow doesn’t disappear.

It saturates the room.

There is never less of it
than when you can see
its edges.

And when more lights come on,
the single shape
you thought you held
becomes an ensemble
you cannot lead.

You taught me plenty
about what you could control.

I have since learned
two things
you cannot.

Yourself.

And the light
inside another person.

You crave what no shadow
could give you.

The music is with the soul.
And the soul is protected.

You lust for the soulshine.

You will never find it
dancing with my shadow.