I am not an easy person to love. Some days I will whisper how beautiful you are while planting gentle kisses all over your body. You will giggle and try to fight me off and in that moment my heart will have never felt so light.
But other days when my mind is a storm cloud threatening to explode, I will be a bundle of emotions that I cannot quite keep contained. I will be cold, distant, and you will look at me like I am not the same person you fell in love with.
I am a broken light switch. My moods flicker without anyone flipping me on and off. I wake up each morning and wonder which me you will encounter that day. I always hope it is the one who makes you want to stick around.
I am not easy to love. But what I need you to understand is that whether there is a war raging inside of my mind or I am the kind person that you adore, I will always love you.
I will love you in the morning. I will love you when you cry. I will love you when I am angry. I will love you when you’re being stubborn. I will love you when I don’t even love myself. I will love you.
I know that there will be days when you want to give up on me but I am asking you, please don’t. You see, you are the only one who has been able to settle the storm inside of me before I even realize it is surfacing.
I am not easy to love but I promise that I will always put up a fight. And I will love you no matter which me my light switch flips on that day.”
It’s my daughter, she’s my biggest muse.
There’s someone, we all find out soon,
more important than ourselves to lose.
I feel a deep bond with young children –
all those photos in my dressing room –
especially those who’ve been stricken,
Children I’ve met across the years –
they uplift me like pieces of moon,
and guide me, whispering in my ear
I’m turned to spirits, the emotions of others.
And I feel her presence all the time
though I never met my grandmother.
I learned at a very young age,
when I need to tap some extra strength,
to put my persona, Sasha, on stage.
Though we’re different as blue and red,
I’m not afraid to draw from her
in performance, rifts, even in bed.
I saw a TV preacher when I was scared,
at four or five, about bad dreams,
who promised he’d say a prayer
If I put my hand to the TV.
That’s the first time I remember prayer,
an electric current humming through me.
You call me a singer, but I’m called to transform,
to suck up the grief, anxiety, and loss
of those who hear me into my song’s form.
I’m a vessel for all that isn’t right,
for break-ups and lies and double-cross.
I sing into that vessel a healing light.
To let go of pain that people can’t bear.
I don’t do that myself, I call in the light.
I summon God to take me there.
Utopias, they don’t much interest me.
I always mess things up a bit.
It’s chaos, in part, that helps us see.
But for my daughter I dream a day
when no one roots for others to fail,
when we all mean what we say.