An Appalachian Goodbye

Last night,
I stood amongst former classmates and mentors
to celebrate the quiet movements of a poet.

I'm not sure if it was the death of a writer
or that anxiety of not knowing if you'll ever see
someone again,

but a student approached me.

I had never enjoyed his over-zealous
confidence
in his self.
His writing was good,
the kind of good that makes you appreciate
the stringing of words like beads,
but he knew it.

He approached me,
interrupting a long conversation
with two minds who had shaped my own,
and said, "are you still writing?"

my cheeks burned and i stuttered, "not really."

These two minds had never known my writing-
the lines that cover this blinking screen
or the ones that the professor we were remembering
had praised with red strokes,
fine criticism,
and honest weight.

the student paused.
"you're really good," he said,
and he knew it.

Sometimes it takes the overflow
of another's certainty
to realize power within yourself.

Beyonce Inspired

this life is going to be so full of goodness
that i won't be able to stop smiling.
feel that beat,
the pulse of certainty
not in a plan
but of a movement.