Duality Read online

  All I want is someone who will never stop trying.

  To try to know another mind and soul

  Is the greatest act of love we can show one another.

  People think tortured artists are the only good ones,

  As if masterpieces can only be born from melancholy.

  But my best work comes when I care for myself first.

  When I don’t have to fight my mind to be creative

  Or convince myself I have important things to say.

  When I am able to get out of bed in the morning

  And not hate what I see in the mirror.

  The words that flow from my mind are so much stronger

  When that mind isn’t broken.

  To hell with the stereotypes.

  Be a healthy artist instead of a tortured one.

  You truly think you can thwart my plans?

  Stop my dreams?

  Halt my power?

  You forget that women are made from the flames

  That you used to burn our ancestors with.

  Good luck.

  Persephone

  What amazing power one can wield when underestimated.

  Take for example, the goddess of spring,

  Assumed to be as delicate as her flowers,

  Spends her part of her time creating life and nurturing the Earth.

  Flowers in her hair,

  Barefoot across the meadows,

  Creating. Bringing life.

  But also bringing death.

  Her name itself means bringer of destruction

  While her existence is meant to bring life.

  The paradox of Persephone,

  No longer Kore, no longer a simple young maiden.

  You can do your best work when you are underestimated,

  When you are working in spite.

  She is delicate, some may say,

  But strong enough to bring the god of the underworld to his knees,

  For he never took another lover once he’d tasted her.

  Powerful enough to turn the king of the dead

  Into a loyal husband

  Who waits with her dark crown at the end of every summer.

  She is power because she is a contradiction.

  The goddess of spring

  And the queen of the underworld.

  Shimmering pastels

  And shining black onyx.

  A goddess in duality.

  And actually, all of the goddesses are dualities.

  It’s only the men who are one-dimensional.

  But the women in the pantheon were rich in contradictions good and bad:

  Athena, goddess of wisdom and warfare

  Also a beautiful weaver who could spin tapestries that make mortals cry

  (Or die).

  Hera, protector of marriage, children, and women

  Striking down women her husband had harmed.

  Artemis, guardian of young maidens,

  Inciting violence and demanding the sacrifice of Iphigenia,

  A young maiden herself.

  Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty,

  Drawn into a centuries-long love affair with the god of war,

  Her fiery contradiction, passionate paradox.

  Hestia, goddess of the home,

  A sign of comfort,

  And also of fire, which was powerful enough

  To make Zeus punish Prometheus for eternity.

  Demeter, bringing life and nourishment to mortals,

  In grief killed the Earth she’d so carefully nurtured,

  Let the grasses and crops wither away as she did herself

  Until her daughter was returned.

  And that daughter, Persephone,

  Lives and loves in the duality of her being.

  She is not weaker in one part of herself

  But instead strong because of both.

  Because she did not try to hide away

  One part of herself that did not fit one narrative,

  But embraced her contradiction that cracked open her character

  And made her a queen.

  She does not allow her mother to have authority over her being

  Just like she doesn’t allow Hades the same

  Because she does not belong to either one of them.

  A goddess is not property,

  Or a stagnant relic to worship as an unchanging metaphor.

  A goddess is a living, breathing woman

  Rich in paradox that gives her power

  A glowing duality whose shadows sparkle

  With superiority and sensitivity

  in the best and beautiful ways.

  After all,

  The duality of a woman should be both

  Admired

  And feared.

  The moment you equate your worth

  With productivity and achievements

  You create nuances of yourself in numbers.

  Your value becomes marketable,

  And if your price of the day is too low,

  Then your self-esteem falls off the charts too.

  Do not believe the lies.

  You are priceless whether you are resting

  Or receiving a medal of honor.

  One day I’ll look at you for the last time.

  If I had my way, it would be when we’re in each other’s arms,

  Happy with the lives we’ve built over the decades.

  Our wrinkled hands would intertwine

  And there would be no words,

  Just peace.

  If I had it my way,

  I’d look at you for the last time

  Right before you do.

  Thankfulness is more than pretty quotes in cursive

  And meals around tables.

  It is recognizing that when you were at your lowest point

  You were saved

  Not by your own accord

  But by a love so deep you can’t comprehend it.

  Thankfulness is holy, gratitude an active praise.

  It is a surrender of what we’ve accomplished

  And a recognition to what has been done for us.

  I’ve always lived my life in the black and white.

  But then he laughs

  And instead of finding joy in grey

  Everything in the world goes golden.

  I’ve always lived my life in the black and white

  But then he laughs and everything goes golden.

  And for a moment, I think he was the one who saved me.

  And then I realize, he is not the one the sunshine came from.

  The gold spilled out of me as I laughed too,

  Finally secure in myself,

  Finally seeing beyond black and white.

  The light was always within me,

  It had just been dimmed for a few years.

  And now, I am finally able to shine,

  brightly golden,

  As I was always meant to be.

  Golden

  I’ve always lived in the black and white.

  But lately, I’ve been trying to find the grey, to plunge into the fear of

  Melding the dark and light parts of myself.

  It has taken years to pull myself out of the frame of mind

  That things can only be one way or another.

  Black and white,

  Good and bad.

  Isn’t that what they teach you from the beginning?

  Nice kids get presents, bad kids get coal.

  Smart people get good grades, stupid people fail.

  Good things will come to you if you are a good person.

  Except, none of that bullshit is true.

  Bad kids get presents too.

  Sometimes smart people don’t do well in school.

  And despite their efforts, bad things will happen to good people.

  These are harsh, dark realities that no one wants to tell you

  Until you are living them.

  Then you start to fall apart when

/>   You are the one failing your favorite class,

  You aren’t making friends even though you are trying,

  You get hurt even though you are kind.

  Where is the goodness in this grey that we were promised?

  It seems like that when we start to step out of black and white thinking

  We are plunged into a grey that is not cleansing but somber.

  Maybe that is because we are looking at it wrong.

  Maybe we are colorblind to what the melding truly is.

  The opposite of black and white thinking does not have to be grey.

  The true opposite of black and white thinking

  is golden.

  You can be gentle and powerful at the same time.

  You can wear pink skirts and leather jackets.

  You can want to make money and still be a kind person.

  You can prepare for the worst and still hope for the best.

  This is not grey.

  This is shimmering, warm, golden light

  That has been asking you to step into its glow for ages,

  But you’ve been walking around in a black and white film reel

  Of your past mistakes and future fears,

  A silent horror film that replays your deepest shame and projects potential pain.

  When will you see that the gold has always been around you?

  When your house was cloaked in darkness,

  The road to your one-day apartment was paved in gold.

  When you were cursing time for taking away a love,

  The hands of the clock were glittering with the stolen seconds they gifted to you.

  When you were angry at yourself for feeling so deeply

  Your emotions sparkled with the reminder that your senses are superpowers.

  When they broke up with you,

  A small thread of gold led you to your true love.

  When you were so determined to see things one way or another

  The cavern between the two was lined in gold dust,

  Asking for you to jump in

  And explore the idea that you can be both,

  Or neither,

  Or all of them at once.

  I do not have to be either depressed or elated.

  I can be both struggling and serene.

  I can be angry and healing at the same time.

  There are so many wrongs that we are told from childhood on,

  But your resurrection begins when you kill those lies

  And rise from the grave of expectations and limitations.

  There is no limit to what you can be.

  You’ve the one who has been drawing the black and white bars

  Of the jail cell you’ve been trapped in

  While the golden key has never left the lock.

  They may tell you that you are a romantic,

  You are not realistic,

  What a shame they cannot see all the hues that you can.

  I am not saying that it will be easy,

  But you have to keep going to find the golden road

  That will guide you step by step.

  I know it is scary.

  We’ve been trapped in the black and white for so long

  And change never comes easily.

  But I promise that the world is so much more beautiful,

  You are so much more beautiful,

  In shimmering, royal, golden light.

  It has taken me twenty five years

  To accept the duality of my being.

  I am weak and strong,

  Brave and scared,

  Talented and able to grow,

  Kind and powerful,

  Saved and changed,

  Hopeful and hopeless,

  Independent and craving love,

  Beautiful and insecure.

  I want to write for myself

  And I want people to read it.

  I want to make change

  And also rest.

  I want to scream for justice

  And still celebrate the small victories.

  I want to praise God

  And connect with those who don’t.

  These traits and desires

  Are often extremes of one another.

  But the beauty of duality is that I can be

  Both

  Or neither

  Of any extremes that I choose.

  And so can you.

  Thank you for reading.

  Acknowledgements

  I am nothing without the saving grace of God. Americanized Christianity and those who use his name to harm others are discouraging, but also untrue. The true spirit of God is the only reason I am who I am today.

  My family has always supported me, particularly mom, dad, and sister. Thank you for helping me chase my dreams.

  My wonderful college roommates: Kaitlyn, Annie, Dimo, and Katelyn. Y’all are the best friends I could ever ask for who can encourage me one minute and completely roast me the next.

  Every English teacher and professor I’ve ever had, but I particularly want to thank Dr. Deneen Senasi, Dr. Andrew Silver, Dr. Anya Silver, Dr. Gary Richardson, and Dr. Doug Thomas.

  I’ve had incredible mentors in my life, but none stand out more than Mr. and Mrs. Wells.

  So many of my dear friends have supported my writing. Thank you to all of you who told me my words were worth saying: Greg, Alaina, Rachel, Katie, Natalie, Taylor, Nora, Marin, Kyle, Buff, Ansley, Cheyenne, Freen, Karly, and so many more.

  The poetry community on Instagram has been invaluable. I feared it would be full of fake friends, but every writer I’ve interacted with online has been kind and encouraging.

  And you. Thank you for reading my words and supporting my writing. A writer can write for herself, but she will always long to share her thoughts with others. You’ve helped to make that a reality.

  Follow Sage on Social media at

  @Sage__Leroux

  Many of these poems are transcribed spoken words. Any page marked with a rose or a knife is a spoken word meant to be heard as well as read.

  Visit the Sage Leroux Youtube channel to see those pieces performed vocally:

  All My Friends Are Getting Married

  Gentle Power

  Time Is a Romantic