Poem: Where to Begin

Where to begin—
at the breath before the word,
or the word that trembles
because it knows it will change things?

Maybe at the quiet.
The place where nothing has happened yet
and everything is possible,
like a door pretending to be a wall.

Begin with a question you’re afraid to ask,
or a mistake that still glows
with the heat of learning.
Begin with the bruise, not the bandage.

You can start small:
a cup on a table,
light sliding across the floor,
your name sounding different
when you say it to yourself.

Beginnings aren’t loud.
They don’t announce themselves.
They lean in and whisper,
Try this.

So begin anywhere.
Even here.
Even now.

Thank-you for reading.

Brenda Marie