POEM STARTER
Write a poem about a lie that spirals out of control.
Consider the structures and devices you could use to show the repetition and amplification of the lie.
“I’m Okay.”
You know the
“I’m okay.”
As you’re dressed
in black, mascara
smudged and running.
“I’m okay.”
As you place the
flowers on the grave.
“I’m okay.”
As your hands shake.
“I’m okay.”
As your body deteriorates.
“I’m okay.”
You continue to say,
even as you’re crying,
eyes blurring and burning.
“I’m okay.”
Would you admit it,
though, if you weren’t?
Would you even know?
“I’m okay, I promise.”
Don’t do that to yourself.
Don’t lie.
You like the rain,
today of all days.
Because the thunder
that comes with it,
you relate to.
“I’m okay.”
But are you?
Would you dance?
Celebrate that they lived?
Or are your eyes trapped,
caught in a trance,
replaying memories
of laughter, even
the tough crap?
Not just the happy,
but also the most hurting.
“I’m okay.”
You say,
staring at their grave.
Would you dance
for the life they lived?
Or would you only remember
the baby in the crib?
The child with the toys?
Would you forget
that they’re no longer a kid,
no longer a little boy?
That they grew up,
got a job and worked,
had kids of their own,
and yet…
“I’m okay.”
You’re allowed to hurt,
just don’t forget
the life he lived.
The smile he gave,
the little secrets in his eyes.
Don’t forget
he loved his life,
he loved his wife
and kids,
he was kinder
than anyone,
never told them
to shut up.
He didn’t believe in luck,
he chose hard work.
“I’m okay.”
He would want you
to know it’s okay.
You can be not okay.
It’s okay,
but you are not.
It’s a lot,
your brother
then your son,
but it’s okay.
You are not,
but it’s okay.
I understand
it’s a lot.
Just never try
to be okay when
you’re not.