APRIL 19 COMES AROUND EVERY YEAR

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It had to be your eyes. Or maybe it was the way you laughed

with joy so pure, that belied the battered life you lived.

Every day you showed up with a smile and your eyes-stars twinkling in the night skky

I wanted to see you today. I don’t know where you are.

So, I combed through my memories, forgotten and neglected.

Anything, a shred of evidence that you were around me, and I existed in your orbit.

Fuck!! The memory I didn’t want. The Picture.

April 19. The Picture used at your memorial,

And the dam burst. The emotions, contained, barely

now.  My tears came fast, rushing and splashing everywhere: My dress. My Desk.

Today is ripped. Jagged. My red dress not quite fitting my inconsolable mood.

I am fractured. I am broken, blurry eyed, and a sunken shell.

It happens every year on this day. April 19. I split open.

Crushed by the memory of you, of your wicked humor.

Imagine this. A poet with no words, No cheesy metaphors now.

Nothing comes out now, the words dry on the page, and I contemplate what my life means.

I understand that now, that living for you is essential to our cause. All trans people deserve

love and safety. You had love. I am sorry that I couldn’t provide safety.

The last time we spoke was a video call.

You were super animated, and you were bold and beautiful.

April 19. EVERY.YEAR.FOREVER. I will give you what you needed most – love and safety.

Your memory will live on, through every telling of your story

by the people who loved you most. I am one such person, and

every year on this date, for you, my friend, I will share a wicked meme, and light

a white candle in your honor.

REST IN PEACE AND POWER KATIE NEWHOUSE